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FREE  £ND  EASY 

COMIC  SONGSTER 

BEING  A CHOICE  COLLECTION  OF 

Amusing,  Broadly  Burlesque,  • Dry,  Droll, 
Humorous,  and 

TRULY  ORIGINAL  SONGS. 

All  Adapted  to  very  Popular  Airs. 

j! 

1 

. ■ j ; 

. I 

! 

|! 

NEW- YORK  ; ' 

ROBERT  M.  DE  WITT,  PUBLISHER,  ' 

NO.  13  FRANKFORT  STREET.  ; 


f * ♦ 

•I 


. . -t 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18C4, 
BY  ROBERT  M.  DE  WITT,  ^ 

I 

in  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  United  States  District  Court, 
for  the' Southern  District  of  New  York. 


7/  I ’;;i:7:fou 
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I, 


FREE  AND  EASY 


COMIC  SONGSTER 


I Never  Mention  It. 

Parody  on  “ Xo.  Wc  Never  Mention  Her.” 

Oh ! no,  I never  mention  it, 

The  name  of  apple-pie  ; 

My  lips  are  now  forbid  to  taste 
The  once  familiar  fry. 

To  mush  and  milk  they  hurry  me, 

To  ease  me  when  I fret ; 

And  when  they  see  me  lift  the  spoon, 
They  think  that  I forget. 

They  hid  me  seek  in  crackers  stale 
The  charm  that  doctors  see  ; 

But  should  my  strength  and  spirit  fail, 
I’ll  never  drink  black  tea. 

’Tis  true  a year  has  passed,  since  at 
The  table  we  were  met, 

I’ve  sat  me  down  to  eat  and  chat. 

Yet  how  can  I forget  1 

They  tell  me  mutton  now  is  poor. 

The  leanest  of  the  lean  ; 

They  hint  that  lambs  are  very  thin. 
But  I know  what  they  mean. 

Perhaps,  like  me,  poor  Betty  King 
Her  living  may  regret : 

But  if  her  appetite’s  like  mine. 

She  never  can  forget. 


6 Free  and  Easy 

Reply  to  “ Meet  Me  by  Moonlight  Alone.’’ 

[By  Miss  Pardoe.] 

Meet  you  by  moonlight  'I  oh  ! no, 

I really  can’t  do  such  a thing — 

For  scandal,  you  very  well  know, 

Is  ever  too  swift  on  the  wing. 

I’m  exceedingly  subject  to  cold, 

And  I cannot  be  looking  my  best. 

If  to  5'ou  while  my  heart  I unfold, 

I should  chance  have  a pain  in  my  chest. 

Daylight  will  fully  avail 

For  all  that  you  have  to  tell. 

And  so  you  can  whisper  the  tale 

After  luncheon, — it  strikes  me  as  well. 

Ohf  be  sure  not  to  ask  me  again, 

For  though  dearly  your  flat’ries ‘I  prize, 

I am  really  obliged  to  refrain — 

They  say  its  so  bad  for  the  eyes. 


My  Love  She  has  a Red,  Red‘ Nose. 

Parody  on  “ My  Love’s  Like  a Red,  Red  Rose.” 

Oh ! my  love  has  got  a red,  red  nose, 

I long  to  see  it  soon; 

O ! my  love  is  like  the  mulberry. 

All  covered  o’er  with  bloom. 

As  fond  as  thou,  my  bonnie  lass. 

Of  full’ proof  gin  am‘I  ; 

For  I will  drink-  with  thee,  my  dear. 
And  drain  the  bottle  dry. 

I’ll  drain -the  bottle  dry,  my’  dear. 

We’ll  sing  and  dance  for  fun ; 

And  if  you‘  wish  for  more,  my  dear. 
Why,  for  it  I will  run. 


Comic  Songster.  7 


But  I must  cut  my  stick,  my  love, 

And  hop  the  twi^  ashore, 

And  we’ll  get  drunk  again  my  dear, 

A thousand  times  or  more. 

Will*  You  trust  Me  then  as  Now. 

Parody  on  “ Will  you  Love  Me  Then  as  Now.” 

While  I^m  standing  at  the  counter, 

AVith  the  ready  in  my  fist, 

As  I take  the  I’m  needing. 

On  my  friendship  you  insist ; 

Say  you’ll  hook  me  for  the  quarter, 

Place  the  chair  and  give  the  how, 

But  my  circumstances  changing. 

Will  you  trust' me  then  as  now. 

When  my  pockets  once  so  bulging. 

Hang  as  loose  as  loose  can  he, 

And  my  outward  man  all  over 
Shows  the  weight  of  poverty  ; 

When  a change  is  o’er  me  stealing. 

Will  no  change  you  take,  I vow, 

Will  the  change  find  you  unchanging. 

Will  you  trust  me  then  as  now. 

Money  is  King. 

Air  “ Things  I Don’t  Like  to  See.” 

Oh!  Money,  sweet  money  is  the  theme  of  the  play. 
The  poorest  of  beggars  and  rich  statesmen  each 
day; 

By  hook  or  by  crook  they  look  out  for  the  vital. 
Through  Bulwer  the  author,  I came  by  the  title. 
The  poor  parish  Doctor  for  his  service  then  begs, 
Thus  money  you’ll  find  puts  us  first  on  our  legs  ; 
Then,  blest  with  a baby  whom  you  love  we’ll  sup- 
pose. 

So  the  ready  will  buy  it  some  ready  made  clothes. 


8 Comic  Songster. 


Little  l)05’a  soon  grow  up  to  manhood’s  estate, 
Then  Money’s  the  cause  of  their  staj’ing  out  late ; 
A word  to  the  ladies,  for  I cannot  do  less. 

They  are  all  for  the  money.  Money  buys  them  their 
dress. 

While  some  that  have  consols  for  their  husbands 
will  try. 

Most  ready,  for  ready,  soon  spent,  then  good-bye 
Dear  pleasures  and  frolics,  and  most  things  that  are 
rash. 

Are  the  means  to  procure  and  to  squander  the  cash. 

Only  get  change  for  a bill,  it  will  soon  disappear. 
You’ll  be  sure  to  find  wants  that  will  always  seem 
clear  ; 

One  fact  is  quite  plain,  I advise  you  to  seek  it, 

If  money  you  have  then  endeavor  to  keep  it. 

Some  doctors  will  tell  3"ou,  “ if  no  cure  then  no  pay,” 
’Tis  easy  to  promise,  don’t  believe  what  they  say. 
The  good  lawyer’s  your  friend  if  cash  you  have 
plenty. 

For  a debt  of  ten  dollars  they  get  you  for  twenty. 

Some  stupid  old  fathers  are  always  for  saving. 
Ne’er  thinking  of  comforts,  the  gold  ever  craving. 
While  man)'-  fond  mothers  exist  uppen  tea, 

And  ne’er  think  upon  self  for  their  progeny. 
Now  mone)^’s  a good  thing,  and  the  fact  will  be 
found. 

The  road  is  quite  easy  to  make  happy  all  around. 
The  poor  wretched  gambler  all  honor  subduing. 
Would  repay  home  and  friend  in  plotting  their  ruin. 

Get  money  if  you  can  but  abuse  not  its  power, 
’Twill  give  joy  to  your  life,  or  embitter  each  hour; 
Give  parties,  then  soon  you’ll  findmanj^  a friend. 
Who  will  borrow  )’our  cash  if  j’ou’ve  any  to  lend; 
The  miser,  deluded,  to  himself  quite  a pest. 

Still  has  many  warm  friends  who  wish  him  at  rest; 
Our  real  wants  are  but  few,  make  all  happy  j’ou  can. 
Our  bards  say  ‘^a  good  man  is  a real  nobleman.” 


Comic  Songster.  9 


If  a rogue  buys  your  vote  he’ll  sell  you  in  return, 

For  gold’s  the  great  master  for  if^s  use  we  sojourn  ; 

’Twill  tempt  lovely  women,  the  facts  are  quite  cer- 
tain. 

But  as  I’ve  been  bribed  I must  keep  down  the  cur- 
tain. 

This  comedy.  Money,  will  teach  many  a truth. 

Like  the  “ School  for  Scandal,”  give  instruction  to 
youth  ; 

When  'Dame  Nature  and  Art  human  nature  unfold, 

Then  to  Bulwer  and  Knowles,  let’s  repay  with  our 
gold. 


Courting  Sarah’s  Mother. 

Air  Umbrella  Courtship* 

I courted  once  as  nice  a girl. 

As  any  man  need  sigh  for. 

With  pouting  lips  and  teeth  of  pearl. 

That  I went  mad  well-nigh  for. 

Her  charms,  in  fact,  entranced  each  sense, 
I could’nt  live  without  her  ; 

For  bank  stock  in  throe  per  cent 
Sheds  golden  rays  about  her. 

Stern  relatives  all  stubbornly 
Bejected  Sarah’s  lover; 

Yet  oftentimes  upon  the  sly 

We  met,  ’neath  twilight’s  cover  ; 

And  there  within  that  darkened  room, 

I swore  by  love  and  thunder, 

That  nothing  save  the  crack  of  doom. 
Should  rend  our  vows  asunder. 

One  moonless  evening  fully  bent 
To  press  my  suit  yet  warmer. 

O’er  the  back  garden  wall  I went 
To  seek  my  precious  charmer ; 


lo  Free  and  Easy 


The  casement  stood  ajar — within 
The  room  I dimly  spied  her, 

Amid  the  gloom  like  harlequin, 

I bounded  in  beside  her. 

Then  dropping  on  my  knees,  a rush 
Of  words  each  wish  expressing, 

’Tis  folly  beating  round  the  bush. 

When  time  and  duns  are  pressing. 

Pour’d  from  my  lips  “ Oh,  dearest  maid,” 

I said,  “ Than  angel  fairer  ! ^ 

The  boon  for  which  so  oft  I prayed, 

Grant  me  this  night,  sweet  Sarah !” 

‘‘  Your  mother  scolds,  jmur  father  growls, 
Your  brother  swears  he’ll  flay  me. 

But  I despise  their  threats  and  scowls. 

Your  frowns  alone  would  slay  me. 

Oh,  let  me  hear  thee  say  I’m  thine, 

In  whispering  tones  of  honey  ; 

I only  have  your  love  divine, 

(Though  added,  and  your  money.”) 

Come  fly  with  me!  and  never  mind 
The  old  folks  cruel  snarling  ; 

They’ll  soon  come  round  when  e’er  they  find 
The  knot’s  been  tied,  my  darling. 

Just  then  the  door  flew  open  wide, 

And  in  walked  pa  and  brother ; 

When  lights  they  bore,  reveal’d  that  I’d 
Been  courting  Sarah’s  mother. 


The  Sentimental  Cobbler. 

Air  Derry  Down. 

A cobbler  I am  and  no  jobs  I refuse, 

I live  by  the  mending  of  old  boots  and  shoes  ; 

I leather  my  customers,  stop  broken  holes. 
And  am  always  repairing  some  very  bad  soles. 

chorus: — Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 


Comic  Songster.  1 1 


Whenever  a man’s  understanding  is  gone, 

’Tis  I that  can  mend  it,  tho’  e’er  so  much  worn. 
Then  pray  good  customers  on  me  depend, 

To  your  troubles  I can  very  soon  put  an  end. 

’Tis  not  very  often  my  work  idly  lacks. 

For  to  it  I stick  night  and  morn  tight  as  wax ; 
Then  surely  my  business  it  never  can  fail. 

While  all  sorts  of  jobs  I continually  nail. 

Like  all  auctioneers,  I’m  a bit  of  a crammer. 
Like  them  too  I frequently  work  with  the  ham- 
mer. 

Insulted  one  day  by  an  ill-natured  clown. 

Like  my  auctioneer  brother,  I knocked  him  flat 
down. 

Saint  Monday,  like  others  I merrily  keep. 

And  few  are  the  sorrows  that  make  me  weep  ; 

I forget  all  disasters,  forgive  all  that’s  past, 

And  swear  all  the  day  to  be  true  to  the  last. 

My  hair  often  bristles  to  think  all  my  life, 

I have  lived  without  taking  a lass  for  my  wife  ; 
But  as  I’m  grown  old  and  no  chance  can  well  fall, 
I’ll  wait  for  grim  death,  and  then  give  up  my  awl. 


The  Perfect  Cure. 

[An  Original  Version] 

Young  love  he  plays  some  funny  tricks 
With  us  unlucky  elves  ; 

So  gentlemen  I pray  lookout. 

And  take  care  of  j^ourselves  ; 

For  once  I met  a nice  young  maid. 
Looking  so  demure, 


12 


Free  and  Easy 


And  all  at  once  to  me  she  cried, 

‘‘  You  are  a perfect  cure.” 

I wasted  on  her  lots  of  cash, 

In  hopes  her  love  to  share, 

I used  with  her  to  cut  a dash. 

And  all  things  went  on  square ; 

Until  I caught  another  chap 
Who  on  his  knees  did  woo  her, 

She  cried  as  he  my  face  did  slap, 

You  are  a perfect  cure.” 

I called  upon  her  the  next  day, 
Concerning  that  affair  ? 

I took  a seat,  and  on  it  lay 
A strange  hat,  I declare. 

Whose  hat  is  that,”  says  I ; says  she 
“Not  yours,  you  may  he  sure. 

So  yourmay  walk  your  chalks  from  me, 
For  you  are  a perfect  cure.” 

“ You  are  no  cure,”  I replied  ; 
i “Such  insults, are  not. needed,” 

When  a tall  fellow  I espied 

Who  nearly  half  killed  me,  did ; 

. I through  the  window  took  a leap, 

And  fell  into  the  sewer  ; 

They  dragged  me  out  and  loud  did  shout, 
“You  are  a perfect  cure.” 

I was  laid  up  ill  for  seven  months. 

Indeed  I’m  not  romancing. 

Which  brought  on  old  Tantany’s  dance 
And  then  I kept  on  dancing. 

One  day  a^  peeler  called  on  me, 

I felt  ashamed  you’r  sure, 

“ Along  with  me,  come  on,”  says  he, 
“You  are  a, perfect  cure.” 


Comic  Songster.  13 


He  took  me  to  the  magistrate, 
And  there  stood  faithless  she,* 
An  artful  tale  she  did  relate. 

And  then  swore  against  me. 

The  case  created  lots  of  fun 
At  my  expense  to  be  sure. 

So  I pay  for  what  I never  done 
Aint  I a perfect  cure. 

A cure  the  neighbors  now  call  me. 
My  friends  all  say  the  same, 
They  try  to  cure  me  of  my  love. 
And  rob  me  of  my  name. 

I’ve  told  you  all,  m}'-  song  is  done, 
You’ll  pity  me  I’m  sure. 

And  say,  as  I away^  does  run. 
There  goes  the  perfect  cure. 


I Stood  on  the  Shore. 

As  sung  by  E.  T.  Thorne. 

I stood  on  the  shore ’midst  the  weeping  and  wailing, 

; Of  friends  that  were  parting  it  might  be  forever; 
They  gave  a loud  cheer  when  the  good  ship  was 
sailing. 

And  wept  while  the  echoes  were  dying  away. 

One  bright  face  was  laughing  while  tears  chased 
each  other. 

It  was  but  an  infant  whose  smile  I saw  there  ; 

The  babe  had  its  home  on  the  breast  of  ifs  mother. 
But  little  it  knew  of  its  mother’s  despair. 

That  morn  to  the  wars  went,  the  husband  and  father. 
The  tears  of  the  mother  fell  fast  on  the  child  ; 

I wept,  for  the  drops  in  my  own  eyes  would  gather, 

I spoke  and  the  infant  looked  upward  and  smiled ; 
I talked  of  old  homes  and  the  deeds  of  proud  story. 
The  wife  thought  of  battles  that  still  were  to 
come ; 


14  Free  and  Easy 


I said  in  my  mind,  they  who  fight  for  our  glory, 
Shall  never  have  fear  for  the  loved  ones  at  home. 

And  spoke  I not  the  truth,  where’s  the  freeman  who 
falters, 

To  hear  out  the  promise  a nation  has  made? 

If  dear  to  our  hearts  are  our  homes  and  our  altars, 
Then  those  that  defend  them  shall  loose  not  our 
aid. 

' Humanity  needs  it,  her  pealings  are  holy. 

And  justice  demands  that  each  man  plays  his  part, 
We  may  not  all  fight,  hut  the  high  and  the  lowly. 
Like  freemen  can  aid  the  cause  we  have  at  heart. 


The  Tea ! The  Tea ! * 

Parody  on  “ The  Sea  ! The  Sea  !” 

The  tea  ! the  tea  ! the  toast  and  tea  ! 

The  hlack,  the  green,  the  four  and  three  ! 
Without  the  milk,  with  all  its  grounds, 

It  filleth  my  heart  with  joyous  hounds. 

This  praises  ale  aloud — that  Mocha  tries — 

Or  for  a deep  drop  of  the  creature  sighs. 

I’m  one  for  t6a ! I’m  one  for  tea  ! 

I am  a stunner  for  hohea  ! 

With  the  hrew  I love,  with  the  hrew  of  sloe, 
Without  all  liquid  else  I’ll  go. 

Tho*  the  milk  don’t  come,  or  the  sugar  sweet, 
What  matter  ? I can  drink  it  neat ! 

The  cloth  was  white,  the  tea  was  drawn 
At  the  breakfast  hour  when  I was  horn; 

Tho  kettle  whistled,  so  gossips  told. 

And  the  tea-pot  was  as  full  as  it  could  hold ; 
And  never  was  known  such  a cup  of  tea. 

As  welcomed  to  life  the  hahe,  ( that’s  me.) 

I have  lived  since  then  on  the  hest  Souchong 
Well,  just  exactly  my  whole  life  long. 

With  wealth  to  spend  and  a power  to  range. 
But  never  have  thought  or  tried  to  change ; 
For  Pm  death — no  matter  what  sort  it  he — 
On  China,  or  ‘‘or  any  other  man’s”  tea  ! 


Comic  Songster.  15 


Charlotte  My  Darling. 

Parody  on  “ Kathleen  Mavourneen.” 

Charlotte  my  darling,  the  dinner  is  waiting, 

The  voice  of  the  waiter  is  heard  on  the  stair ; 

The  guests  on  their  hosoms  their  napkins  are  pin- 
ning, 

Charlotte,  my  darling!  why  lingering  there'? 

Oh,  hast  thou  forgotten  how  early  was  breakfast '? 
Or  hast  thou  forgotten  how  late  shall  he  tea? 

We  may  be  too  late,  and  we  shall  not  get  any, 
Charlotte,  my  darling  1 have  pity  on  me. 

Charlotte,  my  darling  come  down  from  your  toilet, 
The  fair  capon’s  gleam  in  the  jelly’s  mild  light ; 

Oh  where  is  the  spell  that  once  lay  in  plum-pudding7 
Come  down  as  you  are,  or  I shan’t  get  a bite. 
Charlotte,  my  Charlotte!  my  faint  voice  is  calling, 
Ere  long  will  be  vanished  both  pudding  and  tart ; 

I shall  be  too  late,  and  they  wont  give  me  any, 

O,  why  dost  thou  loiter  when  they  must  depart '? 


Take  Care  of  Your  Head  in  the  Morning. 

Air  “ Over  the  Water  with  Charley.” 

What  a pity  it  is  that  a man  while  he’s  out. 

Can’t  take  a small  drop,  and  rest  quiet ; 

Not  swig  till  he  doesn’t  know  what  he’s  about, 

And  reel  home  without  making  a riot ; 

My  grandfather,  Bottlenose,  often  would  say, 

(And  his  caution  I took  as  a warning,) 

My  boy,  if  your  out  to-night  soaking  your  clay. 
Take  care  of  your  head  in  the  morning.” 

My  old  friend  Tom  Tipple  could  drink  like  a horse. 
And  we  lived  in  the  same  house  to-gether, 


1 6 Free  and  Easy 


One  word  with  each  other  we  never  had  cross, 

But  were  thick  as  young  birds  of  a feather, 

Now  Tom’s  was  a failing — a sad  one,  ’tis  clear, 
He’d  swig  till  the  daylight  was  dawning, 

Tho’  I never  ceased  whispering  into  his  ear, 

“ Take  care  of  your  head  in  the  morning.” 

To  a party  one  night  he  was  going  out  to  sup, 
When  his  wife  kissed  his  cheek  rather  fawning, 

“ At  six,  my  dear  Tommy,  you’ll  have  to  get  up, 

So  take  care  of  your  head  in  the  morning 
He  vow’d  that  no  liquor  should  tempt  him  on  earth 
After  one  glass,  the  rest  he’d  be  scorning ; 

I’ll  be  home  soon,”  said  he,  ‘‘dear,  and  snug  in 
my  bed. 

Because  of  my  head  in  the  morning/* 

Away  to  the  party  he  went  very  spruce. 

Of  his  head  in  the  morning  was  thinking. 

But  glass  after  glass  of  the  dear  luscious  juice! 

He  pour’d  down  in  his  throttle  like  winking! 

He  took  some  old  rum,  then  brandy  and  gin 
(For  he’d  not  forgot  his  wife’s  warning,) 

“ I’m  not  going  to  mix  it,”  says  he  with  a grin, 
“'Cause  it  muddles  one’s  head  in  the  morning.” 

Then  he  pick’d  up  his  legs,  and  towards  home  he 
did  stump. 

Took  the  gas  for  a rushlight  or  candle, 

Attempted  to  light  his  cigar  at  a pump, 

And  friendly  shook  hands  with  the  handle! 
Swore  the  lamp-posts  were  dancing  an  Irish  qua* 
drille. 

When  a straw  tripp’d  him  up  without  warning; 
Bang  into  the  gutter  be  roll’d — “ what  a gill,’* 

He  exclaimed,  “ I shall  look  in  the  morning. 

With  the  curb-stone  for  a pillow,  contented  he  lay, 
Singing  songs  till  daylight  was  dawning. 

Says  he  “ won’t  my  wife  be  delighted,  I say  1 


Comic  Songster.  17 


I’ve  took  care  of  my  head  in  the  morning  !’* 

Then  into  a plug-hole  he  popp’d  his  latch-key, 
And  kept  twisting  it,  cursing  and  yawning ; 

“ My  fool  of  a wife’s  lock’d  the  street  door,”  says 
be, 

Quite  forgetting  my  head  in  the  morning.” 

The  police  coming  by  draggedhim  out  of  the  mire, 
While  he  left  and  right  began  podging, 

On  a shutter  they  laid  him  against  his  desire. 

And  found  him  a soberly  lodging. 

For  assaulting  the  peelers  and  getting  drunk  too, 
He  was  fined  ten  bob,  as  a warning; 

‘‘Next  time,”  says  his  honor,  “ I’d  just  advise  you. 
To  take  care  of  your  head  in  the  morning.” 

Now  friends,  young  and  old,  pray  don’t  slight  my 
advice, 

(I  wish  it  well  known  in  each  quarter,) 
Whenever  your  taking  your  grog  snug  and  nice. 
Always  mix  it  with  plenty  of  water ; 

Or  if  you  prefer  a drop  neat,  which  you  might, 
More  than  one  thimble  full  pray  be  scorning. 
For  if  you  dive  deep  in  the  glass  of  a night, 

You’ll  find  your  head  swim  in  the  morning! 


Disertation  upon  Noses. 

[An  old  fashioned  Coraic  Song.] 

I forget  what  Sterne  says  in  his  chapter  on  noses. 
With  laughter  to  make  our  sides  ache : 

But  I think  like  Lavater  he  arguing  supposes 
Good  or  ill  from  their  shapes  or  their  make  ; 

But  I’ll  let  both  alone  with  each  skit  or  reflection, 
As  they  spar  or  together  agree. 

And  explain  the  eflects  in  my  own  recollection. 
These  same  noses  have  had  upon  me. 


I 


1 8 Free  and  Easy 


Cocked  up  noses  are  pert,  and  some  say  not  too  civil 
Some  have  none,  like  a bear  when  a cub, 

A fine  stately  nose  may  sometimes  hide  a devil, 
And  an  angel  may  beam  in  a snub. 

The  flat  nose,  like  a platter,  is  scarcely  worth  nam- 

The  sharp  nose  is  a pretty  good  sort ; 

I The  mulberry  nose  that  like  Randolph’s  is  flaming, 
Makes  one  think  of  good  claret  or  port. 

Your  fine  Grecian  nose,  about  whidh  they  so  teaze  us, 
Is  admired,  but  from  this  some  will  swerve  ; 

For  a nose  should  be  beautiful  if  it  would  please  us, 
And  the  true  line  of  beauty’s  a curve.  « 

The  old  Roman  hook’d  noses  were  guards  to  their 
peepers. 

They,  therefore,  were  men  of  renown  ;• 

For  the  sickle-like  noses,  armed  them  all  so  like 
reapers. 

They  cut  all  their  enemies  down. 

After  all  a good  nose  is  a generous  feature. 

To  the  face  gives  an  elegant  air  ; 

It  lends  grace  to  men,  is  the  type  of  good  nature. 
And  is  not  much  disliked  by  the  fair. 

But  the  mind  is  the  thihg  for  though  noses  ’ be 
hooked. 

Pale,  ruby,  depressed  or  elate. 

As  a razor’s  as  sharp,  as  a bill  hook  as  crooked. 
Never  mind,  so  the  heart  be  but  straight. 


Dublin  Sights, 

Air  Limerick  Races. 

When  at  home  with  dad,  I never  had  no  fun,  sirs ; 
Which  made  me  so  mad,  I swore  away  I’d  run,  sirs. 
I packed  up  my  clothes  so  smart,  ribb’d  stockings, 
vest  so  pretty, 

: ! With  money  and  a light  heart,  tript  ofi*  for  Dub- 
( ! lin  City . 

I I CHORUS. — Tu  ral,  In  ral,  la. 


Comic  Songster. 


19 


As  soon  as  I got  there  about  the  streets  I ran,  sirs, 

At  all  the  shows  to  stare,  my  ramhiing  I began,  sirs  ; 

0 such  charming  sights  ! Music  grinding  women, 

Water  lifting  lights,  crocodiles  and  yeomen. 

^ Tu  ral,  lu  &c. 

The  next  sight  I did  see,  was  wonderful,  good  lack, 
sirs, 

A coach  drawn  by  a flea,  and  two  men  made  of 
wax,  sirs  ; 

There  were  Kings  and  Queens,  and  lawyers  with- 
out lungs,  sirs, 

Circassians,  Gulotines,  and  women  without  tongues, 
sirs. 

Tu  ral,  lu,  &c. 

But  the  greatest  fight  I saw,  from  the  beginning. 

Was  a real  sham  fight  upon  a field  of  linen  ; 

1 next  saw  fighting  cocks,  but  what  I thought  most 

rare,  sirs. 

Was,  that  up  in  a box,  the  Curragh  of  Kildare,  sirs, 

Tu  ral,  lu,  &c. 

I to  the  mall  was  led,  where  I my  eyes  did  feast,  sirs. 

To  see  a man  in  red  exhibit  the  wild  beasts,  sirs ; 

Says  he,  ‘‘  pay  and  go  in,  I’ve  apes  and  monkeys 
plenty,” 

Says  I,  ‘for  one  within, without  I’ll  show  you  twen- 
ty.” 

Tu  ral,  lu,  &c. 

To  the  Play-house  then  I goes  where  I saw  merry 
faces, 

And  in  the  lower  rows  were  servants  keeping 
places ; 

’Mongst  actors  I found  soon,  they  manage  things 
quite  funny. 

For  they  play  the  Honeymoon  before  the  farce  of 
Matrimony. 

Tu  ral,  lu,  &c. 


20 


Free  and  Easy 


Young*  Grimes. 

Parody  on  “ Old  Grimes.” 

Old  Grimes  is  dead  that  good  old  man, 
We  ne’er  shall  see  him  more  ; 

* But  he  has  left  a son  who  hears — 

The  name  that  old  Grimes  bore. 

1 

He  wears  a coat  of  latest  cut, 

His  hat  is  new  and  gay  ; 

He  cannot  hear  to  view  distress. 

So  turns  from  it  away. 

His  pants  are  new,  fitting  snug 
O’er  patent  leather  shoes  ; 

His  hair  is  by  a barber  curled, 

He  smokes  cigars  and  chews. 


A chain  of  massive  gold  is  borne 
Above  his  fiashy  vest ; 

His  clothes  are  better  every  day, 
Than  were  old  Grimes’s  best. 


In  fashion’s  court  he  constant  walks. 
Where  he  delight  doth  shed. 

His  hands  are  very  white  and  soft, 
But  softer  is  his  head. 


He’s  six  feet  tall,  no  post  more  straight. 
His  teeth  are  pearly  white,  ^ 

His  habits  though  are  sometimes  loose. 
And  sometimes  very  tight. 

His  manners  are^of  sweetest  grace, 

0 His  voice  of  softest  tone  ; 

His  diamc^id  pin’s  the  very  one 
That  old  Grimes  used  to  own. 


Comic  Songster,  21 


A dickey  tall  adorns  his  face, 

His  neck  a scarf  of  blue  ; 

Sometimes  he  goes  to  church  for  change, 
And  sleeps  in  old  Grimes’  pew. 

He  has  drank  wines  of  every  kind. 

And  liquors  cold  and  hot ; 

Johnny  Grimes  in  short,  is  just  the  sort 
Of  man.  Old  Grimes  was  not. 


Der  Duychman’s  Serenade. 

Parody  on  “ The  Cavalier.” 

’Twas  a good  summer’s  night  and  der  moon  shone 
bright, 

Unt  I felt  so  sholly  and  gsiy, 

Ven  I dout  I vould  go,un  mine  avvections  to  show, 
To  a laty  some  musicks  I’d  blay  ; 

So  I duned  up  mine  vlute,  and  away  I did  poot 
To  her  house  vere  mine  love  she  hangs  out ; 

Un  der  air  it  did  ring  mit  der  zongs  I did  zing. 

For  at  least  half  a mile  round  apout. 

Bound  apout,  Bound  apout. 

For  at  least  half  a mile  round  apout. 

“ It’ll  be  a rich  dreat  to  hear  musick  zo  zweet,” 
Dus  I said  to  menzelf  as  I blayed ; 

I’ll  enchant  her  by  tarn,  zuch  a tear  leetle  lamb, 

I ne’er  saw  since  der  tay  I vas  made.” 

Put  a sash  here  raised,  un  I velt  amazed. 

Ash  a head  from  her  vinder  dere  bops, 

Uu  ondop  ov  mine  crown,  mit  a splash  dumbling 
down. 

Came  a pucket  of  vater  and  schlops. 

Un  schlops,  un  schlops, 

Came  a pucket  of  vater  and  schlops. 


jLx. 


Free  and  Easy 


A Warning  to  Travelers.  ' 

Air  “ Bob  and  Joan.” 

A 

Never  go  to  France, 

Unless  you  know  the  lingo, 

If  you  do,  like  me. 

You  will  repent,  by  jingo  ! 
Staring  like  a fool. 

And  silent  as  a mummy. 

There  I stood,  alone, 

A nation  with  a dummy  ! 

CHORUS  : — Never  go,  &c. 

Chaises  stand  for  chairs, 

They  christen  letters,  “ billies;” 
They  call  their  mothers  mares,” 
And  their  daughters*  fillies.” 
Strange  it  was  to  hear. 

I’ll  tell  you  what’s  a good  ’un. 
They  call  their  leather  “ queer,” 
And  half  their  shoes  are  wooden. 

* Never  go,  &c. 

Signs  I had  to  make. 

For  every  little  notion, 

Limbs  all  going  like 

A telegraph  in  motion  ; 1 . )< 

For  wine  I reeled  about, 

To  show  my  meaning  fully,  | 
And  made  a pair  of  horns 
To  ask  for  “ beef  and  bully.” 

Never  go,  &c. 

‘^Moo!”  I cried  for  milk, 

I got  my  sweet  things  snugger, 
When  I kiss’d  Jeanette, 

’Twas  understood  for  sugar. 

If  I wanted  bread. 


Comic  Songster,  23 


My  jaws  I set  a going, 

And  asked  for  new  laid  eggs 

By  clapping  hands  and  crowing. 

Never  go,  &c. 

If  I wished  a ride, 

I’ll  tell  you  how  I got  it ; 

On  my  stick  astride 

I made  believe  to  trot  it ; 

Then  their  cash  was  strange, 

It  bored  me  every  minute, 

Now  here’s  a ^‘hog”  to  change, 
How  many  sows”  are  in  it  1 


The  Irish  Potatoe. 

Parody  on  the  “ Old  Oaken  Bucket.” 

How  sweet  to  the  taste  is  the  Irish  potatoe. 

As  memory  awakens  the  thought  of  the  plant ! 
Its  dark  verdant  vine-top,  and  beautiful  blossom, 

In  pleasant  transition  my  memory  haunt ; 

Ay,  thought  of  the  root  in  profusion  once  growing, 
On  the  broad  sunny  hill-slope  adjoining  the  mill, 
At  the  homestead  how  many  we  raised  there’s  no 
knowing. 

For  some  were  but  small  ones  and  few  in  a hill. 

CHORUS^ 

The  mealy  potatoe,  the  Irish  potatoe. 

The  thin-skinned  potatoe  that  grew  on  the  hill. 

That  delectable  plant  I will  prize  while  I’m  able, 
For,  often  at  noon  when  returned  from  the  field, 
I found  it  superior  to  all  on  the  table — 

The  best  flavoured  edible  that  nature  could  yield. 
With  what  eager  appetite,  sharpened  by  labor, 

I plied  knife  and  fork  with  a hearty  good  will ! 
Alas  ! there  are  none  of  the  old  fashioned  flavour. 
None  like  the  “ real  simons”  that  grow  on  the  hill. 
The  mealy  potatoe,  the  Irish  potatoe. 

The  thin-skinned  potatoe  that  grew  on  the  hill. 


24  Free  and  Easy 


How  prime  from  the  full  heapen  dish  to  receive  it> 

As,  poised  on  mj*  fork,,  it  ascends  to  my  mouth  ! 

No  appeal  to  the  palate  could  tempt  me  to  leave  it; 

Though  affected  by  rot  on  a long  summer’s  drouth , 
And  now  far  removed  from  that  situation, 

Where  I used  to  partake  of  the  root  to  my  fill. 
Fancy  fain  would  revert  to  my  father’s  plantation, 
And  sigh  for  the  “ kidney”  that  grew  on  the  hill.  ' 

The  mealy  potatoe,  the  Irish  potatoe, 

I The  thin  skinned  potatoe  that  grew  on  the  hill. 


The  Charity  Boy. 

(As  sung  by  the  celebrated  Sam  Cowell.) 

Air;— .“Off  She  Goes.” 

No  doubt  you  wonder  who  I is, 

And  at  my  figure  you  may  quiz  ; 

At  once  your  doubts  then  to  destroy, 

I’m  Bobby  Miles,  the  Charity  Boy. 

Tho’  some  folks  say  as  I’m  a fool, 

I’m  a teacher,  in  a Charity  School ; 

And  ’cause  I am  six  feet  to  view, 

I’m  reckon’d, the  head  scholar  too. 

CHORUS. 

O,  what  a pleasure  learning  is ! 

For  tho’  the  folks  may  jeer  and  quiz, 

I’m  mammy’s  pet,  and  daddys’s  joy, 

O,  what  do  you  think  of  the  Charity  Boy  ? 

My  talent  I did  quickly  show, 

At  twelve  years  old,  why  you  must  kno.w, 
Pot-hooks  and  hanger,  I wrote  free  ; 
Beside,  I know  my  A.  B.  C. 

My  rising  genius  not  to  pass, 

They  promoted  me  to  the  fust  class. 

And  ven  the  teacher  the  boys  did  whack, 
I’d  the  honor  to  take  them  on  my  back.  - 
O,  what  a pleasure,  &c. 


Comic  Songster.  25 


I’m  so  accomplished,  you  may  see, 

At  marbles  none  can  play  like  me, 

At  buttons,  too,  I comes  it  stout, 

I beats  my  playmates  out  and  out. 

At  laming,  too,  no  one  denies, 

And  this  ere  proof  will  quite  suffice  ; 

You  bear  as  I can  spell  quite  pat, 

CAT  dog,  and  DOG  cat. 

Ob,  wbat  a pleasure,  &o. 

Von  afternoon  I play’d  the  vag. 

And  to  the  fields  my  way  did  drag. 

To  get  cock-sorrel ; the  place  I know, 

And  butter-cups  and  daises  too. 

Next  day  the  teacher  scolded  me. 

And  threatened  that  I horsed  should  be  ; 
But  when  be  made  the  fust  attack. 

Why,  I wollop’d  him  just  like  a sack. 

Ob,  wbat  a pleasure,  &c. 

So  this  you  see  bow  blest  I are  : — 

In  laming  I bang’s  Byron  far. 

With  a mind  content  wher’er  I goes. 

And  dress’d  in  these  ere  handsome  close, 

I never  bless  the  fate.  I’m  sure. 

Which  made  me  humble — made  me  poor ; 
For,  oh ! you  can’t  conceive  the  joy 
It  is  to  be  a Charity  Boy. 

Humpy  dumpy  on  the  wall, 

Humpy  dumpy  got  a fall ; 

I’m  mammy’s  pet  and  daddy’s  joy. 

So,  wot  d’ye  think  of  the  Charity  Boy. 


No  Irish  Need  Apply. 

[Original  verpion  by  F.  B.  Philips.] 

Sure,  I was  out  the  other  night,  on  such  a wild- 
goose  chase, 

I saw  an  advertisement  about  a dacent  place  ; 


26  Free  and  Easy 


It  is  myself  it  would  well  suit,  but  I cannot  tell 
you  wh}’', 

The  man  he  said,  “ did  you  not  read  ‘ no  Irish  need 
apply.’  ” 

CHORUS. 

If  ’tis  my  country  you  dislike,  I’m  sure  I don’t 
know  why, 

Paith  it’s  all  blarney  when  you  say,  *^No  Irish 
I need  Apply.” 

' J ust  take  a trip  to  Ireland  they  will  treat  you  like 
a man. 

The  whiskey  they’ll  pour  into  you  as  long  as  you 
I can  stand; 

I With  heart  and  hand  they’ll  welcome  j'ou,  tell  me 
the  reason  why. 

Our  ears  offend  with  that  dainty  end,  *‘No  Irish 
need  apply.” 

So  just  look  out,  and  mind  yourself,  for  I say  by 
the  by, 

You  lose  your  senses  when  you  say,  ‘‘No  Irish 
need  Apply.” 

You  talk  about  your  soldiers,  now  tell  me  if  you 
can, 

; If  the  bravest  of  them  all  are  not  Irish  men ; 

' In  America,  in  China,  and  India  bye  the  bye, 
i You  never  say  when  you  want  men,  “No  Irish 
need  Apply.” 

You  may  talk  about  your  countr}^,  but  you  know 
’tis  all  my  eye. 

For  the  best  feather  in  your  cap,  is  when  “ Irish  do 
apply.” 

Of  Generals  and  Statesmen,  old  Irel.and  can  boast, 

‘ Her  Poets,  too,  ’tis  well  known  to  you,  are  univer- 
sal toasts ; 


2? 


Comic  Songster, 


There’s  Goldsmith,  Moore  and  Lover,  and  Morgan 
bye  the  bye, 

You  could  not  get  their  equals  if  “No  Irish  need 
Apply.” 

So  to  conclude,  toss  off  jout  glass,  I see  no  reason 
why, 

You  should  put  in  your  advertisement  “ No  Irish 
need.  Apply.” 


liOve  and  Physic. 

Air  “ Bow  Wow.” 

A clever  man  was  Doctor  Digg, 
Misfortunes  well  he  bore,  sirs, 

He  never  lost  his  patience,  till 
^He  had  no  patients  more,  sirs  ; 

And  though  his  practice  once  was  large, 
It  did  not  swell  his  gains,  sirs. 

The  pains  he  labored  for,  were  but 
The  labor  for  his  pain,  sirs. 

That’s  just  so, 

Tol  lol  de  -riddle  lol, 
And  that^s  just  so. 

To  marry  seemed  the  only  way 
To  ease  his  mind  of  trouble. 

Misfortunes  never  singly  come. 

And  misery  makes  them  double. 

He  had  a patient  rich  and  fair. 

That  hearts  by  scores  was  breaking  ; 

And,  as  he  once  had  felt  her  wrist. 

He  thought  her  hand  of  taking. 

That’s  just  so,  &Cv 

And  so  he  called  ; his  aching  heart 
With  anxious  fear  was  swelling. 


28 


Free  and  Easy 


He,  half  in  habit  took  her  hand, 

And  on  her  tongue  was  dwelling. 

But  thrice,*  though  he  essayed  to  speak, 

He  stopped,  and  stuck,  and  blundered, 
For  say,  what  mortal  could  be  cool, 

Whose  pulse  was  most  a hundred  7 

That’s  just  so,  &c. 

**  Madame,”  at  last  he  faltered  out. 

His  love  had  grown  courageous — 

**  I have  discerned  a new  complaint. 

I hope  will  prove  contagious  ; 

And  when  the  symptoms  I relate. 

And  show  its  diagnosis. 

Oh,  let  me  hope  from  those  dear  lips. 

Some  favorable  prognosis !” 

That’s  just  so,  &c. 

This  done,”  he  cries,  “ let’s  try  those  ties 
Which  none  hut  death  can  sever  ; 

Since  ‘ like  cures  like’  I do  infer. 

That  love  cures  love  forever.” 

He  paused — she  blushed — however  strange 
' It  seemed  on  first  perusal. 

Although  there  was  no  promise  made. 

She  gave  him  a refusal. 

That’s  just  so,  &c. 

Perhaps  you  think,  ’twixt  love  and  rage, 
He  took  some  deadly  potion. 

Or  with  his  lancet  oped  a vein. 

To  ease  his  pulse’s  motion.  ' / 

To  guess  the  vent  of  his  despair,  ‘ ' 

The  wisest  one  might  miss  it. 

He  reached  his  ofiice, — then  and  there — 

He  charged  her  for  the  visit. 

That’s  just  so,  &c. 

' • I 


Comic  Songster. 


^9 


The  Old  Bachelor. 

(A  Popular  Comic  Song.) 

When  I was  a school  hoy,  aged  ten, 

Oh  mighty  little  Greek  I knew ; 

With  my  short  striped  trousers,  and  now  and  then, 
With  stripes  on  my  jacket,  too ! 

When  I saw  other  hoys  to  the  playground  run, 

I threw  my  old  grad  us  hy. 

And  left  the  task  I had  scarcely  begun, 

There’ll  be  time  enough  for  that  said 

I was  just  nineteen  when  I fell  in  love. 

And  I scribbled  a deal  of  rhyme. 

And  I talked  to  myself  in  a shady  grove, 

And  I thought  I was  quite  sublime. 

I was  torn  from  my  love — ’twas  a dreadful  blow! 
And  the  lady,  she  wiped  her  eye, 

But  I didn’t  die  of  grief — oh,  dear  me,  no  ! 

“ There’ll  be  time  enough  for  that,”  said  I. 

My  next  penchant  was  for  one  whose  face 
Was  her  fortune — she  was  fair  ; 

Oh,  she  spoke  with  an  air  of  enchanting  grace, — 
But  a man  cannot  live- upon  air. 

And  when  povert}^  enters  the  door,  young  love 
Will  out  the  casement  fly  ; 

The  truth  of  the  proverb  I’d  no  wish  to  prove. 
There’ll  be  time  enough  for  that,”  said  I. 

My  next  was  a lad)’-  who  loved  romance. 

And  wrote  verj^  splendid  things. 

And  she  said  with  a sneer,  when  I asked  her  to  dance, 
“ Sir,  I ride  upon  a horse  with  wings.” 

There  was  ink  on  her  thumb  when  I kissed  her  hand. 
And  she  whispered,  “ If  you  should  die, 

I will  write  you  an  epitaph,  gloomy  and  grand.” 

“ There’ll  be  time  enough  for  that,”  said  I. 


3©  Free  and  Easy 


I left  her,  and  sported  my  figure  and  face 
At  opera,  party  and  hall ; 

I met  pretty  girls  at  every  place. 

But  I found  a defect  in  them  all. 

The  first  did  not  suit  me,  I cannot  tell  how, 

The  second  I cannot  say  wh}’’ ; 

The  third — bless  me,  I will  not  marry  now, 

**  There’ll  be  time  enough  for  that,”  said  I. 

I looked  in  the  glass,  and  I thought  I could  trace 
A sort  of  a wrinkle  or  two. 

So  I made  up  my  mind  that  I’d  make  up  my  face, 
And  come  out  as  good  as  new. 

To  my  hair  I imparted  a little  more  jet, 

And  I scarce  could  suppress  a sigh. 

But  I cannot  he  quite  an  old, bachelor  yet, — 

. “ No,  there’s  time  enough  for  that,”  said  I. 

I was  now  fifty-one,  yet  I still  did  adopt 
All  the  airs  of  a juvenile  beau ; 

But  somehow,  whenever  a question  I popp’d. 

The  girls,  with  a laugh,  said  Oh  no !” 

I am  sixty  to  day,  not  a very  young  man. 

And  a bachelor  doom’d  to  die, 

So  youths,  he  advised,  and  marr}'  while  you  can, 

“ There’s  no  time  to  he  lost,”  say  I. 


When  We  went  out  a Fishing! 

Last  night  Tom  Snooks,  says  he  to  me, 

‘‘If  you’ve  a mind  some  fun  to  see, 

I’ll  take 'you  out  with  two  or  three,  < 
Who  mean  to  go  a fishing. 

So  get  a rod,  a can  and  bait. 

We  start  from  town  precise  at  eight ; 

Then,  mind,  friend  Muggs,  you’re  not  too  late 
To  go  with  us  a fishing.” 


Comic  Songster.  31 


Says  I,  **  I will,”  so  up  I goes 
To  Mr.  Spout  with  my  best  clothes, 

And  borrowed  what  you  may  suppose, 

To  rig  me  out  for  fishing. 

! CHORUS. 

With  rods  and  lines,  and  bait  a store, 
Enough  for  half-a-dozen  more, 

I never  shall  forget  the  bore 
Of  going  out  a fishing. 

Then  ofi*  we  trudged,  thro’  dust  and  sun, 
The  perspiration  off*  me  run  ; 

Tninks  I,  I hope  this  is’nt  the  fun 
Of  'going  out  a fishing.” 

At  length  we  reached  the  river  side. 

And  soon  upon  the  glittering  tide 
Our  floats,  like  little  boats  did  ride 
As  floats  do  when  your  fishing. 

I felt  a tug — I tugged  again. 

And  pulled  away  with  might  and  main. 
When  up  I brought  a dog  and  chain. 
When  we  were  out  a fishing. 

With  rods  and  lines,  &c. 

Lord,  how  they  laughed  to  see  the  prize. 
When  Snooks  (you  know  is  such  a size) 
Soused  in  the  stream,  to  our  surprise. 

As  though  to  spoil  our  fishing. 

You’ve  heard  about  “ too  many  cooks,” 
And,  as  we  strove  to  land  old  Snooks, 

We  stuck  him  full  of  little  hooks 

With  which  we  had  been  fishing. 

At  length  our  friend  on  shore  we  brought. 
He  puff’d  and  blow’d,  you’d  have  thought 
A full  grown  porpoise  we  had  caught. 
When  we  were  out  a fishing. 

With  rods  and  lines,  &c. 


32  Free  and  Easy 


We  brandy’d  Snooks — he  soon  *was  well, 
We  plied  away,  and  must  I tell 
What  next  to  Jimm}"  Hig^s  befell, 

When  we  were  out  a fishing. 

The  sun  was  hot.  the  grass  was  green, 

He  sat  himself  where  cows  had  been. 

And  such  a sight  was  his  nankeen. 

When  we  were  out  a fishing. 

I warning  took,  and  on  a rail 

I,  like  a bird  in  nursery  tale,  j 

What  wagged  about  his  little  tail. 

Perch’d  me  up  for  fishing. 

W ith  rods  and  lines,  &c. 
But  such  mischance — the  rail  was  old. 

It  broke,  and  down  the  bank  I roll’d, 
Look  here  ! I’m  sure  I caught  a cold 
From  going  out  a fishing. 

The  mud  was  soft — my  legs  are  thin — 
And  farther  I kept  sinking  in. 

Until  I thought  ’twould  reach  my  chin, 
When  we  were  out  a fishing. 

At  last,  says  1,  “ this  will  not  suit,” 

So  out  I bawls,  when  Higgs,  the  brute. 

He  lugged  me  out  but  left  my  boot 
Where  I had  been  a fishing. 

With  rods  and  lines,  &o. 

At  two  o’clock,  the  hour  agreed — 

We  sat  us  down,’ ourselves  to  feed; 

But  fortune  was  unkind  indeed, 

When  we  were  out  a fishing. 

For  Ur  abb  to  whom  the  grub  did  fall, 
Forgot  the  pies,  the  beef,'  and  all. 

And  bottled  up  three  quarts  of  small, 

' What  stuff  for  us  a fishing! 

But  thank  my  stars,  all  danger  past. 

I’ll  make  the  cupboard  rue  my  fast. 

My  first  exploit  shall  be  my  last., 

Of  going  out  a fishing. 

With  rods  and  lines,  &c. 


Comic  Songster.  33 


Great  Names  of  Antiquity. 

Air  : — Think  of  Your  Head  in  the  Morning.” 

[By  Eugene  F.  JohnstonTj 

Of  late  years  parents’  a fashion  have  made 
Of  givin;^  great  names  to  their  children  ; 

Such  as  Diogenes,  Snooks,  Hannibal,  Praed, 

And  others  e’en  more  bewildering. 

But  this  custom  has  become  almost  absurd. 

To  prove  it,  a few  names  I’ll  mention. 

And  though  they  seem  queer,  they  are  true  to  the 
word. 

And  really  none  of  my  invention. 

Horace,  the  ancient,  in  Gotham  does  dwell, 

A.nd  edits  a daily  paper  ; 

Demosthenes  (snook)  is  a dealer  in  wool, 

And  Cicero,  a black  chimney  scraper. 

Cromwell’s  a peeler  in  the  gay  Broadway  squad, 
George  Law  has  New  York  in  a stable ; 

Michael  Angelo,  the  German,  carries  the  hod, 

And  Caesar,  waits  on  a table. 

Brutus  is  a butcher  in  Christopher  street, 
Sebastian,  a pilot  and  coaster  ; 

Homer’s  a cobbler  that  measures  the  feet, 

Anthony,  but  a bill-poster. 

Bacchus  was  ne’er  known  any  liquor  to  use — 

He  belongs  to  a temperance  society. 

Cleopatra  (though  some  think  her  morals  were 
loose). 

Is  considered  the  pink  of  propriety. 

The  Conquerer  Hannibal,  in  chains  is  now  bound. 
By  his  master  the  famous  Van  Amburgh  ; 

Diana  was.slaughtered  at  the  dog-pound. 

By  the  quack  doctor,  Galen,  of  Hamburgh. 
Fernando  holds  Mozart’s  great  harp  in  his  hand. 
For  “Dixie”  he  sweetly  discourses; 


34  Free,  and  Easy 


Benjamin’s  chief  of  the  policy  band,” 

And-deals  in  '‘gigs”  “saddles”  and  “horses,” 

Pompey’s  a Knight  of  the  dish-cloth  and  pan, 
Israel  a Chatham  street  tailor ; 

Lafa\'ette  is  now  Mr.  Shoddy’s  coachman, 
Gustavus,  is  .but  a nailer. 

Hector  who  lost  a leg  at  Bull  Run, 

Has  been  lately  awarded  a pension, 

Napoleon  the  preacher,  never  handled  a gun. 

For  fighting  he  makes  no  pretension. 

Ulysses,  still  conquers  as'  in  days  of  yore, 

He’s  the  granting  success  of  our  nation  ; 

Croesus  is  ragged,  and  miserably  poor, 

Almost  on  the  verge  of  starvation. 

So  I’ve  proven  to  you  there  is  nought  in  a name, 
Be  it  ever  so  Grecian  or  Roman, 

Call  a man  what  you  will,  it’s  all  the  same, 

For  a name  I am  sure^will  make  no  man. 


Tilings  Not  Generally  Known. 

Air  :• — “ Green  Grows  the  Rushes.” 

[A  Popular  Comio  Song.l 


bi 

r, 


A tailor’s  goose  will  never  fly. 

Want  of  money  makes  us  sad ; 

An  apple  dumpling’s  not  a pie, 

Crazy  folks  are  always  mad.  , 

A contractor’s  heart  is  very  small. 
The  monument  is  very  high  ; 

One  that’s  dumb  can  never  bawl. 

Very  seldom  asses  die. 

CHOuirs. 

Right  fol  lol,  &c. 


‘f. 


Comic  Songster.  35 


Irish  whiskey’s  very  good, 

Macaboy  will  make  you  sneeze, 

A harher’s  block  is  made  of  wood, 

The  moon  is  not  made  of  green  cheese; 

Garters  keep  the  stockings  up, 

All  bakers  are  not  honest  men  ; 

When  a dog  is  young  he’s  call’d  a pup, 
The  rooster’s  tougher  than  the  hen. 

Right  fol  lol,  &c. 

Wooden  legs  wear  out  no  shoes, 
Christmas  comes  but  once  a year ; 

Without  feet  we  can’t  have  toes, 

Ten  cents  will  buy  a pint  of  beer. 

We  all  sball  live  until  we  die. 

Old  maids  in  scandal  take  delight ; 

Topers  they  are  often  dry. 

Roguery  will  come  to  light. 

Right  fol  lol,  &c. 

Tailors  cabbage  all  your  cloth, 

Shins  of  beef  are  very  tough  ; 

Hennessey  is  just  like  froth, 

Mrs.  Caudle’s  up  to  snuff. 

Jolly  tars  are  fond  of  fun, 

For  Union  we  will  ever  shout ; 

And  now  good  folks  my  song  is  done, 
Nobody  knows  what  ’twas  all  about. 


I’ve  Lately  Had  Some  Money. 

Air  : — “ Statty  Fair.” 

Obscurely  I had  passed  my  life, 

Was  called  an  ignoramus, 

’Till  I,  like  Byron,  woke  and  found 
Myself,  one  morning,  famous.** 


36  Free  and  Easy  - 


All  darkly  had  life’s  weather  heen, 

Tho’  now  ’tis  bright  and  sunny, 

And  yet  this  change  is  not  so  strange, 

I’ve  lately  had  some  money. 

Where’er  I went  folks  ran  away, 

As  if  from  burning  lava, 

They  could  not  he  more  frightened  at 
The  poison’d  tree  of  Java. 

’Tis  not  so  now,  for  all,  I vow, 

Flock  near,  like  bees  round  honey. 

Oh  I magic  change  of  fortune’s  wand. 

It’s  ’cause  I’ve  got  some  money! 

I used  to  say  some  funny  things — 

At  least  I dared  to  think  so  ; 

But  dull  upon  each  ear  they  fell. 

And  all  away  would  shrink  so. 

My  mouth  I never  open  now, 

But  all  I say  is  funny. 

My  jokes  oft  bring  hysterics  on — 

I’ve  lately  got  some  money ! . ’ 

Unnoticed!  might  walk,  I’m  sure. 

From  Bull’s  Head  to  the  Battery,  ^ 

For  not  a man  would  nod  to  me, 

Or  speak  a word  of  flattery.. 

But'now  I never  venture  out 
But' every  face  is  sunny,'  ' ' 

And  all  hob  their  heads  like  mandarins — 
Because  I’ve  got  some  money. 

On  any  subject  I debate, 

If  I a sentence  started,  ^ 

’Twas  never  listened  to — and  none 
Cared  how  with  pain  I smarted: . ) 

My  slightest  whisper  now  is  heard — 

No  more  am  I, their  dummy,  , / * 
Thej^  cannot  act  .without  me  now— 

I’ve  lately  ha'd  some  money. 


Comic  Songster.  37 


The  Doctor. 

A new  Parody. 

Not  a cent  had  he  got,  not  a treasury  note, 

And  he  looked  confusedly  flurried, 

As  he  bolted  away  without  paying  his  shot, 

And  the  landlady  after  him  hurried. 

When  we  saw  him  again  at  the  dead  of  night. 
When  home  from  the  club  returning. 

We  twigg’d  the  doctor  beneath  the  light 
Of  gas-lamps  dimly  burning. 

A.11  bare  and  exposed  to  the  mid-night  dews. 
Reclined  in  the  gutter  we  found  him ; 

And  he  looked  like  a gentleman  taking  a snooze. 
With  his  marshal  cloak  around  him. 

The  doctor’s  as  drunk  as  the  devil,  we  said, 

And  we  managed  a shutter  to  borrow ; 

We  raised  him,  and  sighed  at  the  thought  that  his 
head. 

Would  so  dreadfully  ache  on  the  morrow. 

We  bore  him  home  and  we  put  him  to  bed. 

And  we  told  his  wife  and  daughter, 

To  give  him  next  day,  a couple  of  red — 

Herrings,  with  soda  water. 

Loudly  they  talked  of  his  money  that’s  gone. 

And  his  lady  began  to  upbraid  him  ; 

But  little  he  reck’d  so  they  let  him  snore  on 
’Neath  the  counterpane — just  as  we  laid  him. 

We  tuck’d  him  in,  and  had  hardly  done, 

When  beneath  the  window  calling. 

We  heard  the  rough  voice  of  a son  of  a gun 
Of  a watchman,  ‘‘  one  o’clock”  bawling. 


00 

CO 

Free  and  Easy 

Slowly  and  sadly  we  all  walked  down 
From  his  room  in  the  uppermost  story, 

A rushlight  we  placed  on  the  cold  hearthstone, 
And  we  left  him  alone  in  his  glory. 

The  Cove  that  Sings. 

Air  The  Cove  that  Spouts.” 

No  doubt  a song  you’ve  heard, 
How  greatly  it  delights! 

It  comprises  in  a word 

The  luck  of  the  cove  that  writes. 
Now  I’ve  a song  so  true, 

(My  mind  to  truth  it  clings,) 

And  I’m  going  to  tell  you. 

The  luck  of  a cove  that  sings. 

Tol  de  rol,  &c. 

When  at  singing  I made  a start, 

Some  said  my  voice  was  fine  ; ' ' 

I tried  a serious  part. 

But  turned  to  the  comic  line, 

I found  out  that  was  best. 

Some  fun  it  always  brings  ; 

To  the  room  it  gives  a zest. 

And  it  suits  the  cove  that  sings.  ’ ‘ 

Tol  de  lol,  &o.  - 

To  a concert  or  a rout. 

Each  night  I’m  asked  to  go ; 

With  my  new  toggery  I go  out, 

And  cut  no  little  show  ; . 

Goes  updo  the  music  all  right. 

At  the  women  I sheep’s  eyes  flings, 
Gets  my  lush  free  all  the  night, 
Because  I’m  the  cove  that  sings. 

i 

If  I go  to  take  a room,  / 

There  is  no  talk  or  stuff;  ' ’ 

Comic  Songster. 


39 


About  reference  they  don’t  fume, 

My  word  is  quite  enough. 

For  the  money  they  don’t  care  a sous, 
The  landlady  kind  looks  flings  ; 

She’s  proud  to  have  in  her  house 
A gentleman  that  sings. 

While  strolling  t’other  night, 

I dropt  into  a house,  d’ye  seel 

The  landlord  so  polite 
Insisted  entreating  me  ; 

I called  for  a glass  of  port, 

When  a full  bottle  he  brings, 
[Spoken.'\  How  much  to  pay,  landlord,”  said  I. 

Nothing  of  that  sort,” 

Says  he,  “ You’re  the  cove  that  sings.’* 

Now  my  song  is  at  an  end, 

My  story  through  I’ve  run; 

And  all  that  1 did  intend. 

Was  to  cause  a little  fun. 

If  I succeed,  that’s  right. 

There’s  a pleasure  pleasing  brings. 

And  I’ll  try  some  other  night 
The  luck  of  a cove  that  sings. 


The  Wonderful  Man. 

Air  JDerry  Down.” 

There  was  a man  tho’  its  not  very  common. 

And,  as  people  say,  he  was  born  of  a woman  ; 

And  if  that  be  true,  as  I have  been  told. 

He  was  once  an  infant,  but  age  made  him  old. 

CHORUS. 

Down,  Down,  Derry  Down. 

His  face  was  the  oddest  that  ever  was  seen. 

His  mouth  stood  across,  ’twixt  his  nose  and  his  chin. 


40  Free  and  Easy 


Whenever  he  spoke,  it  was  then  with  his  voice, 
And  in  talking  he  always  in;ide  some  sort  of  noise. 

Down,  Derry,  &c. 

He’d  an  arm  on  each  side  to  work  when  he  pleased. 
But  never  worked  ‘hard  when  he  lived  at  his  ease  ; 
Two  legs  he  had  got  to  make  him  complete, 

And,  what  was  more  odd  at  each  end  of  his  feet. 

Derry  Down. 

His  legs,  as  folks  say,  he  could  move  at  his  will, 
And  when  he  was  walking  he  never  stood  still ; 

If  you  were  to  see  him  you’d  laugh  till  jmu’d  burst, 
For  one  leg  or  ’tother  would  surely  be  first. 

Darr}’^  Down,  &c. 

And,  as  people  say,  if  you  gave  him  some  meat, 
Why  if  he  was  hungry,  he  surely  would  eat ; 

And  when  he  is  dry  if  }'0u  give  him  the  pot. 

The  liquor  most  commonly  runs  down  his  throat. 

Derry  Down,  &c. 

If  this  whimsical  fellow  had  a river  to  cross, 

If  he  could  not  get  over — he’d  stay  w'here  he  was; 
He  seldom  or  ever  gets  oflP  the  dry  ground. 

So  great  was  his  luck  that  he  never  was  drowned. 

Derry  Down,  &c. 

Another  misfortune  befel  this  poor  yeoman. 

For,  when  he  was  married,  his  wife  w’as  a woman. 
And  if  you  believe  me,  tho’  he  he  was  reviled. 

You  may  truly  aver  he  was  never  a child. 

. • Derry  Down. 

And  if  it  be  true,  as  I have  often  heard  tell. 

When  he  was  sick  he  was  not  very  well ; 

He  gave  a large  gasp,  opened  his  mouth  wide. 

By  some  means  or  other  this  poor  fellow  died. 

Derry  Down,  &c. 


Comic  Songster.  41 


But  the  reason  he  died  and  the  cause  of  his  death, 
Was,  poor  soul ! for  the  want  of  more  breath. 

And  now  he  is  left  in  the  grave  for  to  moulder, 
Had  he  lived  a day  longer,  he’d  be  a day  older. 

Derry  Down,  &c. 


The  Wonderful  Nose. 

Air  “King  and  Countryman.” 

A curious  tale  I will  now  disclose. 

Concerning  a man  with  a very  long  nose  ! 

Like  an  elephant’s  trunk  it  reached  to  his  toes. 

And  with  it  he  could  deal  out  some  terrible  blows. 

CHORUS. 

Ei  tu  ral  lu,  &c. 

This  wonderful  nose  he  could  swing  left  and  right. 
Which  you  all  must  allow  looked  a comical  sight, 
No  one  dare  come  near  him  so  great  was  his  might, 
A blow  from  his  nose  would  settle  ’em  quite. 

Ei  tu  ral,  &c. 

This  terrible  chap  was  about  nine  feet  high, 

With  a comical  squint  and  a mouth  all  awry, 
Though  bandy  his  legs  his  heels  were  so  light, 

He’d  just  give  a spring  and  jump  out  of  sight. 

Ei  tu  ral,  &c. 

The  hair  on  his  head  sprouted  out  like  a leek, 

And  whenever  he  spoke  ’twas  a kind  of  a squeak ; 
He  would  oft  with  his  nose,  toss  up  men  for  a freak. 
And  never  came  down,  ’tis  said,  for  a week. 

Ei  tu  ral,  &c. 

This  chap  wore  a hat  in  shape  like  a basin. 

With  a brim  wide  enough  for  a donkey  to  race  on. 


42  Free  and  Easy 


A.nd  such  a deuce  of  a fellow  he  was  to  take  snuff, 
That  a pound  at  a pinch  was  hardly  enough. 

Ei  tu  ral,  &c. 

The  country  was  filled  with  wonder  and  dread, 

So  the  king  at  last  set  a price  on  his  head  ; 

And  so  loud  did  he  snore  when  at  night  in  bed, 
’Twas  said  if  he  lived,  he  would  soon  wake  the  dead. 

Ei  tu  ral,  &c. 


Some  guards  of  the  king  at  last  made  a gap. 
Through  the  doors  of  the  house  of  this  terrible  chap, 
They  found  him  in  bed  just  taking  a nap, 

With  his  nose  round  his  head  in  place  of  his  cap. 

Ei  tu  ral,  &c. 


They  crept  one  by  one  tip-toe  on  the  floor, 

I think  that  in  all  there  was  near  twenty  score ; 
They  tried  to  secure  him,  but  mark  what  a bore. 
He  jump’d  through  the  roof  and  was  never  seen 
more. 


Ei  tu  ral,  &c. 


The  soldiers  were  all  of  them  struck  with  afright. 
When  they  saw  Mr.  Nosey  cut  clean  out  of  sight. 
And  so  angry  were  they  he  had  taken  his  flight. 
They  set  to  and  punched  each  other  all  night. 

j Ei  tu  ral,  &c. 


Grumbling  People. 

Air  “ Good  Morrow  to  your  Nightcap.” 


It’s  wonderful  in  this  bright  world. 
Where  all  our  wants  supplied  are. 
And  freedom’s  flag  is  never  furled. 
Folks  so  dissatisfied  are  ; 


1 

Comic  Songster. 

43  ! 

Tho  fortune  yields  her  gifts  to  those 
Who,  station  once  were  humble  in, 
To  peace  of  mind  they  still  are  foes, 
And  ever  will  keep  grumbling ! 

CHORUS. 

So  this  indeed  is  true,  you’ll  find, 
Whatever  life  jmu  tumble  in  ; 

Both  high  and  low,  nay,  all  mankind, 
They  always  will  be  grumbling  ! 

There’s  Mr.  Snoggins  and  his  wife. 

They  lead  a life  bewildering ; 

Forever  they  were  both  at  strife 
Because  they  had  no  children  ; 

The  oth.er  day  she  brought  him  three., 

(A  tidy  batch  to  tumble  in.) 

One  would  have  thought  that  pleased  he’d  be. 
Yet  still  he  keeps  on  grumbling  ! 

Then  there’s  the  milliner.  Miss  Wren, 
So  crabb’d  and  sour  in  features. 

She  vows  she  can’t  bear  the  men, 

The  nasty,  frightful  creatures ! 

Her  age  is  forty-three — no  less, 

Her  pride  there  is  no  humbling. 
She’s  left  to  single-blessedness, — 

Yet  still  she  keeps  on  grumbling! 

1 

1 

The  Doctor  grumbles  (truth  to  tell,) 
’Cause  people  are  too  healthy  ; 
While  they  keep  obstinately  well. 

He  never  can  grow  wealthy  ; 

He  says,  “ its  very  hard,  he’s  sure,” 
His  vanity  it’s  humbling, — 

But  had  he  half  mankind  to  cure, 

He  still  would  keep  on  grumbling  ! 

The  undertaker  grave  does  look. 
His  feelings  he  can’t  master. 

He  thinks  by  fortune  he’s  forsook 

44  Free  and  Easy 


’Cause  people  don’t  die  faster  ! 

If  in  their  graves,  (the  greedy  elf,) 

All  New  York  had  to  tumble  in, — 
And  the  job  to  bury  ’em  all  himself, 

The  fellow  would  keep  grumbling ! 

The  topers  have  a bitter  pill — 

(In  their  bowels  feel  it  rumbling.;) 
For,  physic’d  by  the  late  tax-bill. 
They’ll  never  cease  their  grumbling ! 
In  short,  it  needs  no  pains  to  show, 

Or  any  further  mumbling. 

That  old  and  young,  both  high  and  low, 
Throughout  the  world  are  grumbling ! 


The  Steam  Cigar. 

Air  “ Cork  Leg.” 

A song  I’ll  sing,  a regular  joker, 

Of  a man,  a terrible  smoker  ; 

He  smoked  away  from  night  till  morn, 
’Tissaid,  ho  smoked  when  he  was  born. 
CHORUS. 

Ei  tu  ral,&c. 

He  tried  Havanna,  Cuba,  too. 

He  tried  tobacco,  none  would  do, 

To  please  him  none  of  them  did  seem. 

So  he  had  a cigar  to  smoke  by  steam. 

Ei  tu  ral,  &c. 

He  lit  his  cigar,  and  he  puff’d  the  smoke. 
With  such  force  that  it  a window  broke  ; 
And  then  the  heat  it  W'as  so  strong, 

He  burnt  the  folks  as  he  walked  along. 

Ei  tu  ral,  &c. 


Comic  Songster.  45 


It  burnt  away  to  bis  heart’s  desire, 

Some  people  thought  the  city  on  fire  ; 

And  if  he  went  out  when  it  chanced  to  rain, 
His  lighted  cigar  dried  it  up  again. 

Ri  tu  ral,  &c. 

When  into  a room  his  nose  he  pokes, 

They  all  cry  out  the  chimney  smokes!” 
And  then  his  cigar  makes  such  a smell, 
That  people  declare  it’s  just  like  !’* 

Hi  tu  ral,  &c. 

’Tis  said  in  London, — and  this  is  no  joke, 

“ ’Tis  him  that  makes  us  in  such  a smoke,” 
When  of  a night  he’s  seen  afar, 

He’s  taken  by  all  for  the  evening  star. 

I Ri  tu  ral,  &c. 

! 

One  day  when  on  a mountain  top 
Folks  thought  him  a comet,  ready  to  drop, 
And  some  saw  from  afar  the  sight. 

And  thought  it  was  the  sun’s  gas  light. 

Ri  tu  ral,  &c. 

He  smoked  away  to  his  heart’s  desire, 

Till  death  appeared  and  quenched  the  fire. 
He  put  out  his  cigar  for  a bit  of  a lark, 

And  then  at  once  extinguished  the  spark. 

Ri  tu  ral,  &c, 


Free  and  Easy 


The  Chapter  of  Accidents. 

Air  : — “ Bow  Wow.”  , ; 

I’ll  tell  you  of  sad  accidents  a long  and  dismal 
chapter, 

For  if  bad  luck  had  e’er  a form,  they  to  my  back 
have  strapped  her ; 

I never  once  a wooing  went  in  all  my  useful  life, 
sir. 

Or  ten  to  one,  but  I had  got  Miss  ‘ Fortune  for  a 
wife,  sir.  ' ; 

When  I was  }^oung,  as  I’ve  heard  say,  they  never 
used  the  ladle. 

Without  they  burnt  my  infant  throat,  or  else 
upset  the  cradle ; 

Once  when  a boy,  on  going  to  school,  as  gay  as  any 
fairy, 

While  looking  up  at  a large  crow,  I tumbled  down 
an  area. 

One  day,  at  play,  my  teacher  cried,  mind  what 
you’re  with  that  ball  about ; 

So  taking  care  to  strike  it  low,  I knocked  my 
master’s  eye-ball  out ; 

And  being  frightened,  tried  to  find  my  way  out  by 
a shorter  cut, 

By  running  down  a fiight  of  stairs  I fell  into  a 
water  butt. 

Without  misfortune  one  whole  day,  I thought 
good  luck  complying ; 

I went  to  bed  so  light  of  heart,  I dream  pt  that  I was 
flying; 

Then  up  I got,  resolved  to  sing,  with  angels  fair,  a 
song  on  high. 

Threw  up  the  window,  out  I jumped  into  a mud 
cart  passing  by. 


Comic  Songster. 


Beneath  a scaffold  walking  once,  with  Dobbins  and 
his  daughter, 

In  looking  up,  plump  on  my  head  came  down  a 
hod  of  mortar ; 

A voice  above  cried  “ mind  below”  so  I tried  to  run 
to  tell  her. 

But  flurried  push’d  her  in  the  mud,  her  father 
down  a cellar. 

Challenged  once  to  fight,  but  shedding  blood,  in 
fear  of, 

I turned  about  to  waste  my  fire,  but  shot  my 
second’s  ear  off; 

Beturning  home,  a porter  met,  with  heavy  load  of 
brass  work, 

I slipp’d  my  foot,  and  shoved  him  through,  a 
window  full  of  glass  work. 

Once  at  an  inn,  not  liking  fuss,  I to  my  room  was 
creeping 

But  there  mistook  the  chamber  door,  and  found  a 
lady  sleeping ; 

A.nd  running  out  her  husband  met,  in  state  of  fierce 
distraction 

Who  bang’d  me  well  about  the  head,  then  brought 
a crim-con  action. 

Once  at  a ball  my  foot  gave  way,  when  I thought 
to  grace  a jig 

I falling  tripp’d  my  partner  up, — pull’d  off  an  old 
lady’s  wig  ; 

Then^  sore  abashed,  I left  the  room,  quite  blinded 
* by  my  bitter  cares," 

And  slipping  ofl*  the  landing  place,  shoved  three 
young  ladies  down  the  stairs. 

Some  thieves  one  night  the  parlor  robbed,  but  they 
could  get  no  higher. 

Watched  next  night,  fell  fast  asleep,  and  set  the 
house  on  fire; 


48  Free  and  Easy 


More  accidents  I would  recount,  in  hopes  that  yon 
might  note  them, 

But  by  mistake  I’ve  thrown  away  the  book  in 
which  I’ve  wrote  them. 


The  Twig  of  the  Shannon. 

On  the  beautiful  banks  of  the  Shannon, 

There  grows  such  an  illigant  tree. 

And  the  first  that  it  bears  is  shilalah, 

I’ve  a sprig  of  it  here  you  may  see. 

*Tis  the  remnant  of  all  my  large  fortune, 

It’s  my  friend  that  ne’er  play’d  me  a trick, 
And  I’d  rather  loose  half  my  supportin’ 

Than  part  with  this  illigant  stick. 

CHORUS. 

’Twas  a delicate  sprig  in  the  summer. 

When  I first  cut  it  from  the  tree. 

And  I’ve  kept  it  through  all  the  cold  weather, 
Faix  the  sprig  of  shilalah  for  me. 

It’s  the  porter  that  carried  my  luggage. 

For  I’ve  shouldered  it  many  a mile. 

And  from  thieves  it  will  safely  protect  me. 

In  a beautiful,  delicate  style. 

Its  useful  for  rows  in  the  summer. 

And  when  winter  comes  on  with  a storm  , 

If  you’re  short  of  a fire  in  the  cabin, 

You  can  burn  it  to  keep  yourself  warm. 

’Twas  a delicate,  &c. 

Its  a friend  both  so  true  and  so  constant. 

It’s  constancy  pen  cannot  paint ; 

For  it  always  is  there  when  it’s  wanted. 

And  sometimes  its  there  when  it  aint ; 


Comic  Songster.  49 


It  beats  all  your  guns  and  your  rifles, 

For  it  goes  off  whene’er  you  desire, 

And  it’s  sure  to  hit  what’er  it’s  aimed  at, 

For  shillalah’s  they  never  miss  fire. 

’Twas  &c. 

It’s  a talisman  so  upright  and  honest. 

Twenty  shillings  it  pays  to  the  pound  ; 

So  if  ever  it  gets  you  in  debt,  sir, 

You  are  sure  to  be  paid  I’ll  be  bound. 

It  never  runs  up  a long  score,  sir. 

In  trade  it’s  not  given  to  fail, 

There’s  no  danger  of  it’s  being  insolvent, 

For  it  always  pays  down  on  the  nail. 

’Twas  &c. 

And  faith  at  an  Irish  election, 

An  argument  striking  it’s  there  ; 

For  with  brickbats  and  sprigs  of  the  Shannon 
We  see  things  go  all  right  and  square. 

It’s  then  there’s  no  bribery  at  all,  sir. 

They  vote  as  they  like,  every  soul. 

But  it’s  no  use  opposing  shilalah, 

Or  it’s  sure  to  come  down  on  the  poll. 

’ Twas  &c. 


The  Wants  of  the  People. 

Air  : “ When  the  Saxon.” 

As  you  want  a song  I could  sing  for  a moon. 
But  it  happens  I want  both  a subject  and  tune  ; 
You  want  and  I want  suppose  I e’en  bawl. 
About  wants  entirely  of  great  folks  and  small ; 

CHORUS. 

For  barring  all  pother,  of  this  want  and  t’other. 
We  all  of  us  want  in  our  turn. 


50  Free  and 'Easy 


The  infant  wants  gewgaws  and  rattles  so  gay, 
The  child  ^\ants  with  others  to  go  out  and  play ; 
The  youth  wants  to  leave  school  and  learning  so 
Hat, 

Whimsical  folks  want — they  never  know  what. 

For  barring  all  pother,  &®. 

The  man  wants  a wife,  which  want  sticks  in  his 
head, 

Till  he  weds  her,  he  then  wants  another  instead  ; 
The  sick  man  wants  health  and  takes  bolus  and 
pill. 

The  doctor  wants — only  to  make  a long  bill ; 

For  barring  all  pother,  &c. 
The  lawyer  wants  clients,  and  drains  them  with 

The  physician  a visit  pays — then  wants  his  fee  ; 
The  tailor  wants  custom  and  for  it  he  looks. 

His  customers  all  want  to  get  in  his  books  ; 

For  barring  all  pother,  &o. 

The  Sailor  wants  grog  and  tobacco  galore. 

His  money  spent  then  wants  to  sail  out  for  more. 
The  soldier  wants  ease  after  battle  and  strife. 

The  prisoner  wants  liberty — sweet  balm  of  life. 

For  barring  all  pother,  &c. 

The  clerk  to  be  master,  wants  to  aspire. 

His  master  from' business  wants  to  retire, 

Fancies  his  cash  makes  a gentleman  true. 

Takes  a villa,  and  then — he  wants  something  to  do. 

. j , For  barring  all  pother,  &c 

Some  great  politicians,  with  feeling  so  warm, 
Want  to  persuade  us  we  want  to  reform ; 

They  get  into  office,'  and  then  plainly  we  trace. 
Like  many  more  members  they  want  a good 
place.  .1; 

For  barring  all  pother,  &c. 


Comic  Songster.  51 


So  numerous  our  wants,  they  with  eaclv  other  vie, 
Poor  folks  all  want  rich  relations  to  die  ; 

Our  wants  for  the  most  part  are  futile  and  vain. 
Many  folks  want  what  they  never  obtain  ; 

' For  barring  all  pother,  &o. 

The  apple  wants  limbs,  the  fool  he  wants  sense, 
The  nation  wants  millions  for  its  defence; 

They  just  now  want  a little  less  tax, 

And  shoddy  contractors,  want  only  contractsi 

For  barring  all  pother,  &c. 

Thus  all  mankind  want,  but  for  fear  you  should 
scoff, 

I’ll  end,  for  perhaps  you  want  me  to  leave  off; 

So  about  that  or  this  want  at  present  I’ll  pause, 
I’ve  only  one  want  now, — and  that  your  applause  ; 

F or  barring  all  pother,  &c. 


Alteration  and  Improvement. 

Air  “ Bow  Wow.” 

Oh,  when  I was  a little  boy,  I noticed  every  move- 
ment. 

And  little  thought  so  short  a time,  would  bring  so 
much  improvement ; 

Now  the  world  is  turning  upside  down  in  observa- 
tion, 

For,  turn  which  way  you  will,  you’ll  find  there’s 
naught  but  alteration. 

Before  the  march  of  intellect,  the  ladies,  e’en  the 
oddest. 

Dress’d  themselves  all  neat  and  prim,  and  look’d  so 
very  modest, 

Now  by  many  habits  they  are  led  in  imitation. 

For  all  wear  trowsers,  and,  of  course,  that  makes 
an  alteration. 


52  Free  and  Easy 


Before  the  march  of  intellect,  (indeed  I am  not 
joking), 

Our  grandfathers  and  fathers  would  indulge  them- 
selves  in  smoking ; 

Now  the  'Vulgar  pipes  of  cla}^  are  banished  from  the 
nation, 

And  everybody  smokes  cigars,  and  that’s  an  alter- 
ation. 

Before  the  march  of  intellect,  our  servant  maids  all 
dress’d  in 

Neat  check  aprons,  and  what  hats  their  mistress- 
es thought  best  in  ; 

Now  girls  despise  all  check  and  apron,  too,  in 
every  station, 

And  gents’  now  wear  check  trav’ling  shirts,  and 
that’s  an  alteration. 

Before  the  march  of  intellect,  folks  never  thought 
of  trials. 

For  throwing  light  additional  on  watches,  clocks, 
or  dials ; 

Now  old  time  is  lit  with  gas,  with  clocks  illumina- 
tion. 

And  citizens  enlightened  are — and  that’s  an  altera- 
tion. 

Before  the  march  of  intellect,  our  soldiers  all  wore 
big  tails. 

Beaux  would  strut  in  clean  shorn  faces,  powder’d 
heads  and  pig  tails ; 

Dandies  now  by  whiskers  big  are  led  in  imitation. 

And  monkeys  wear,mustachios,  and  that’s  an  alter- 
ation. 

Thus  whilst  we  see  so  many  changes  floating  all 
around. 

May  the  march  of  intellect  in  jevery  walk  abound,; 

May  fashion  and  variety  be  seen  all  o’er  the  nation. 

And  may  we  find  improvement  good  in  every  al- 
teration. 


Comic  Songster.  53 


Never  Cut  Your  Toe  Nails  On  a Sunday. 

fA  Popular  Comic  Song.] 

A dashing  young  fellow,  one  Mr.  John  Lowe, 
Walked  fifth  Avenue  on  a fine  Sunday ; 

His  dress  was  the  pink  of  the  fashion  and  go, 
When  he  met  with  the  charming  Miss  Gundy; 
Her  beautiful  eyes  took  him  quite  by  surprise, 

And  so  queer  was  the  state  that  he  felt  u\ ; 

He  tried  all  in  vain  to  tell  his  pain  9 , j 

For  his  heart  it  was  really  a melting"*  > ^ 

CHORUS. 

But,  alas,  who  can  look  into  fate’s  book  of  laws, 
Mr.  Lowe  would  have  married  Miss  Gundy  ; 
He  lost  her ! he  lost  her  I — and  only  because, — 
He  cut  his  toe-nails  on  a Sunday. 

The  next  time  he  met  her  his  love  he  made  known, 
Her  person  he  thought  all  perfection. 

He  press’d  her  with  speed  to  be  bone  of  his  hone, 
She  blush’d,  and — had  no  objection. 

He  gaily  did  sing,  went  and  purchased  the  ring, 
And  the  next  Sunday  was  the  bespeak  day. 

For  that  day  would  chime,  and  agree  with  his  time. 
Much  better  than  having  a week  day. 

But,  alas ! 

On  the  blest  Sunday  morning  he  got  up  with  glee, 
(Little  thinking  that  mischief  was  hatching,) 
Took  out  his  pen  knife  for  his  toes  to  make  free. 

At  night  to  prevent  them  from  scratching. 

But  the  knife  slipt  and  gave  his  big  toe  a wound  ; 

(Sweet  wedlock  there’s  surely  a fate  in) 

That  he  could’nt  put  it  at  all  on  the  ground, 

Tho’  he  knew  Miss  Gundy  was  waiting. 

But,  alas ! 


5'4  Free  and  Easy 


Oh!  words  can’t  describe  all  his  trouble  and  woe, 
Only  think  of  his  sad  destination ; 

A surgeon  was  sent  for,  who  dressed  his  big  toe, 
And  talked  all  about  amputation  1 
Laid  up  for  a month,  while  Miss  Gund)^  so  smart. 
Disappointed  of  having  this  short  knight, 
Without  delay  got  her  another  sweetheart, 

And  married  in  less  than  a fortnight  I 
So  young  men,  if  love  has  got  into  your  head. 
Recollect  Mr.  Lowe  and  Miss  Gundy  ; 

And  whatever  you  do  before  you  get  wed, 

’Meter  d&t  your  toe  nails  on  a Sunday. 

The  Removal. 

Air:— “Derry  Down.” 

A nervous  old  gentleman  tired  of  trade — 

By  which,  though  it  seems,  he  a fortune  had  made, 
Took  a house ! ’twixt  two  sheds  at  the  skirts  of  the 
town, 

Which  he  meant,  at  his  leisure,  to  buy  and  pull 
down. 

CHORUS. 

Down,  Down,  &c. 

This  thought  struck  his  mind  when  he  view’d  the 
estate, 

But  alas ! when  he  entered  he  found  it  too  late  ; 
For  in  each  dwelt  a smith — a more  hard  working 
two 

Never  doctored  a patient,  or  put  on  a shoe. 

Down,  Down,  &c. 

At  six  in  the  morning,  their  anvils  at  work. 
Awoke  our  good  squire  who  swore  like  a Turk  ; 

“ These  fellows’’  he  cried,  “ such  a clattering  keep. 
That  I never  can  get  above  eight  hours  sleep.” 

Down,  Down,  &c. 


Comic  Songster.  55 


From  morning  till  night,  they  kept  thumping 
away,— 

No  sound  hut  the  anvil  the  whole  of  the  day  ; 

His  afternoon’s  nap,  and  his  daughter’s  new  song, 

Were  banished  and  spoiled  by  the  hammers’  ding 
dong. 

Down,  Down,  See. 

He  offered  each  Yulcanto  purchase  his  shop, 

But  no ! they  were  stubborn,  determined  to  stop  ; 

At  length  (both  his  spirits  and  health  to  improve,) 

He  cried,  “I’ll  give  each  fifty  dollars  to  move.” 

Down,  Down,  &c. 

“ Agreed !”  said  the  pair,  “ that  will  make  us 
amends.” 

“ Then  come  to  my  house,  and  let  us  part  friends  ; 

You  shall  dine ; and  we’ll  drink  on  this  jojmus 
occasion^ 

That  each  may  live  long  in  his  new  habitation.” 

Down,  Down,  &c. 

He  gave  the  two  blacksmiths  a sumptuous  regale — 

He  spared  not  provisions,  his  wine  or  his  ale; 

So  much  was  he  pleased  with  the  thought  that  each 
guest 

Would  take  from  him  nois^  and  restore  him  to  rest. 

Down,  Down,  &c. 

“And  now  ” said  he,  “tell  me,  where  mean  you  to 
move — 

I hope  to  some  spot  where  your  trade  may  im- 
prove 1” 

“ Why,  sir,”  replied  one,  with  a grin  on  his  phiz, 

“Tom  Forge  moves  to  my  shop  and  I — move  to 
his.” 

Down,  Down,  &c. 


56  Free  and  Easy 


He  was  only  One  of  the  Rank  and  File. 

’Twas  a glorious  day  worth  a warrior’s  telling, 
Two  kings  had  fought  and  the  fight  was  done, 

When  amidst  the  shouts  of  victory  swelling, 

A soldier  fell  on  the  field  he  had  won. 

Ho  thought  of  kings  and  of  royal  quarrels  ; 

He  thought  of  glory,  without  a smile. 

For.  what  had  he  to  do  with  laurels 

He  was  only  one  of  the  rank  and  file.  <-  ’’ 

V.  CHORUS. 

Theif\  taking  his  little  cruiskeen  ! 

He  drank  to  his  pretty  colleen. 

Oh  ! darling,  said  he,  if  I die. 

You  won’t  be  a widow,  for  why?  . ' 

Sure,  you  would  never  have  me,  vourneen  ! 

A raven  tress  from  his  bosom  taking' 

That  now  was  stained  with  his  life  stream  shed; 

A.nd  a fervent  prayer  on  that  ringlet  making, , 

He  blessings  sought  for  that  loved  one’s  head  ; 

And  visions  fair  of  his  native  mountains. 

Arose  enchanting  his  fading  sight 

Her  emerald  valleys  and'chrystal  fountains. 

Were  never  shining  more  clear  and  bright. 

Then  taking  his  little  cruiskeen. 

He  pledged  his  dear  island  so  green, 

Tho’  far  from  thy  vallies  I die  ! 

Dearest  isle  of  my  heart,  thou  art  nigh  ! — 

^ As  though  absent  I never  had  been. 

A tear  now  fell  for  his  life  was  sinking. 

The  pride  that  guarded  that  manly  eye 

Had  weaker  grown,  such  tender  thinking. 

Brought  home,  and  Heaven,  and  his  true-love 
nigh. 

But  with  the  fire  of  his  gallant  nation ! 

He  scorned  surrender  without  a blow  ; 


Comic  Songster. 


'57 


He  met  with  death’s  capitulation, 

And  with  warlike  honors  he  still  would  go. 

Then  draining  his  little  cruiskeen, 

He  drank  to  his  cruel  colleen, 

To  the  emerald  land  of  his  birth, 

Then  lifeless,  he  sank  to  the  earth, 
Brave  a soldier  as  ever  was  seen. 


Paddy  from  Cork. 

[As  sung  by  Billy  O’Neil,  J.  H.  Ogden,  &c.] 

Dublin’s  a- duck  of  a city, 

’Tis  built  as  you  go  to  Eatfarnham, 

Limerick  gloves  are  so  pretty. 

That  Limerick  lasses  they  darn  ’em  ; 

At  Belfast  they  sell  ready  made  pork. 

If  they  meet  with  a mad  bull  they  don’t 
mind  him, 

I there  met  Paddy  from  Cork, 

Who  buttoned  his  coat  behind  him. 

CHORUS. 

Tu  ral,  lu,  &c. 

Irishmen  all  love  the  sod, 

Whiskey  will  bother  the 'tooth-ache  ; 

And  love,  tho’  it  sounds  mighty  odd, 

Make  the  hearts  of  the  boys  in  truth  ache ; 

Shelah’s  mother  cried  girl  never  talk. 

Of  that  ugly  paudeen  never  mind  him, 

There’s  mischief  in  Paddy  from  Cork, 

When  he  buttons  his  coat  behind  him  !” 

Tu  ral  lu,  &c. 

Now  Paddy  of  good  looks  did’nt  lack. 

And  his  tongue  it  was  tipp’d  with  blarney, 

Yet  he  had’nt  a brogue  to  his  back, 

(Except  two  on  his  feet)  from  Killarney. 


58  Free  and  Easy 


Upper  leather  of  wood  did’nt  baulk 

His  steps,  when  a jig  inclined  him, — ' ; 

Like  a divil  danced  Paddy  from  Cork, 

When  his  coat  it  was  buttoned  behind  hiin. 

Tu  ral  lu,  &c. 

AtBallanashlinch  onfair  days, 

When  he  threw  down  his  modest  shillalah, 
Divils  cure  to  one,  that  said — Peace 
He  got  Eringobra  gallant  gaily ; 

For  hay,  or  beefsteak,  he’d  a fork. 

Work  or  meat  to  no  limit  confined  him, 
Such  a vourneen  was  Padd)^  from  Cork,  I 
When  his  coat  it  was  buttoned  behind  him. 

Tu  ral  lu,  «fec. 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Skinner. 

I really  think  it  very  kind,  , 

This  visit,  Mrs.  Skinner, 

I have  not  seen  you  in  such  an  age — ; • 
[Aside] — The  wretch  has  come  to  dinner ! 

‘^Your  daughters  too! — what  loves  of  girls. 
What  heads  for  painter’s  easels,  i 
Come  here,  and  kiss  the  infant,  dears;— 
[Aside] — And  give  it,  p’raps  the  measles! 

Your  charming  boys  I see  are  home, 

From  Reverend  Mr.  Russel’s,  ' 

’Twas  very  kind  to  bring  them  both!— 7 
[Aside.] — What  boots  for  my  new  brussels! 

So  Mr.  S.  'I  hope  he’s  well. 

And,  though  he  lives  so  handy, 

He  never  now  drops  in  to  sup 
[Aside.] — The  better  for  our  brandy  ! . . 


Comic  Songster. 


**  Come  take  a seat  I long  to  hear 
About  Matilda’s  marriage  ; 

You’ve  come  of  course  to  spend  the  day, — 
Aside,'\ — Thank  Heavens,  I hear  the  carriage! 

What ! must  you  go — next  time,  I hope 
You’ll  give  me  longer  measure, 

Nay,  I shall  see  you  down  the  stairs, 
\Aside^ — With  most  uncommon  pleasure  ! 

Good  bye  1 good  bye  ! remember  all, 

Next  time  you  take  your  dinners  : 

Now,  John,  mind.  I’m  ‘ not  at  home,’ 

In  future  to  the  Skinners.” 


Parody  on  “Mother,  Pve  Come  Home  to 
Die.” 

(An  Original  Conglomeration  of  titles,  by  the  popular  Au- 
thor Eugene  T.  Johnston.) 

Dear  Mother,  I remember  well 

That  nice  young  gal  from  New  Jersey,” 
She  said,  Oh  kiss  hut  never  tell  I” 

“ How  are  you,  black  horse  cavalry  I” 
‘‘Then  let  me  like  a soldier  fall,” 

“ When  the  swallows  homeward  fly 
“ Come  landlord  fill  the  flowing  howl” 

“ Dear  Mother,  I’ve  come  home  to  die.” 

CHORUS. 

“ Call  me  pet  names”  “ Annie  Lisle,” 

“ A bully  boy  with  a glass  eye 
“ Oh  let  her  rip  she’s  all  O.  K,” 

“Dear  Mother,  I’ve  come  home  to  die.” 

“ Oh,  hark  I I hear  an  angel  sing,” 

“ I’ll  be  free  and  easy  still,” 

“ My  love  he  is  a sailor  hoy,” 

With  “The  sword  of  Bunker  Hill.” 


Comic  Songster.  6l 


Oh!  list  to  what  I say,  charms  you’ve  got  like 
Venus, 

Own  3^our  love  you  may,  for  there’s  only  the  wall 
between  us. 

You  lay  fast  asleep,  snug  in  bed  and  snoring, 
While  round  the  house  I creep — your  hard  heart 
imploring.  > 

Then  do  say,  &c. 


I’ve  got  an  acre  of  ground,  I’ve  got  it  set  with 
praties, 

I’ve  got  tobacco  a pound,  and  I’ve  got  some  tea  for 
the  ladies, 

I’ve  got  a ring  to  wed,  some  whiskey,  to  make  us 
' gaily, 

A mattress  feather  bed  and  a handsome  new 
shillaly. 


Then  do  say,  &c. 


I’ve  got  an  old  tom  cat,  which  though  one  eye  is 
staring 

I’ve  got  a Sunday  hat,  a little  the  worse  for  wear- 
ing, 

A Sunday  hose  and  coat,  and  old  gray  mare  to  ride 
on, 

A saddle  and  bridle  to  boot,  that  you  may  ride  as- 
tride on. 


If  you’ll  say,  &c. 

I’ve  got  nine  pigs  and  a sow,  and  I’ve  got  a sty  to 
keep  ’em, 

A calf  and  a brindle  cow,  and  I’ve  a cabin  to  sleep 
’em, 

I’ve  got  some  gooseberry  wine,  the  trees  they  grew 
no  riper  on. 

When  you  say,  &c. 

You’ve  got  a charming  you’ve  got  some  spell- 
ing and  reading, 


62  Free  and  Easy 


You’ve  got,  and  so  have  I,  a taste  for  genteel 
breeding; 

You’re  rich  and  fair  and  young,  as  everybody’s 
knowing. 

And  you’ve  got  a decent  tongue  whenever  you  set 
it  a going. 

Then  do  say,  &c. 

Oh!  for  a wife  till  death,  I am  willing  to  take  you. 

But  oh  1 I spend  my  breath,  the  devil  himself  can’t 
waUe  you, 

’Tis  just  beginning  to  rain — so  I’ll  get  under  cover. 

I’ll  come  to-morrow  again  to  be  your  constant  lover. 

If  you’ll  say,  &c. 


Ireland,  the  Land  of  Shilalah  Law.  ^ 

Air  : — Paddy  O’ Carroll, 

Och  I Ireland  the  place  is,  for  Grecians  and  graces. 
For  sweetest  of  faces  the  world  ever  saw  ; 

For  fighting  genteely  and  drinking  too  freely. 
Potatoes  so  mealy,  and  sweet  usquebaugh. 

Och ! the  paddies  are  rare  ones,  the  ladies  are  fair, 
ones. 

And  no  one  there  dare  once  to  sa}^  they  arc  not ; 
If  Barney  were  by  now,  his  cudgel  would  ply  now. 
And  make  him  soon  fly  now,  as  quick  as  a shot. 
CHORUS. 

For  he’s  of  the  nation  of  civilization. 

Of  sweet  botheration  and  shillalah  law ; 

Och  ! a good  tough  skull-breaker’s  the  best  of  all 
speakers, 

Sing  fiUiloo  ! hubbubboo  1 Erin  go  braugh  ! 

Sweet  Judy  O’Connor,  a maid  of  true  honor, 

So  neatly  I won  her  at  Donnybrook  Fair, 


Comic  Songster, 


63 


From  Paddy  M’Fini^al,  an  Ulsterman  single, 

Who  came  in  a jinjle,  and  sported  her  there. 

Och ! Judy,  I cried  now,  how  can  you  ride  now, 
And  have  at  your  side  no‘w,  such  a bandy-legged 
. knave  ? 

Och ! cried  Paddy,  Barney,  pray  give  us  no  blarney, 
Or  faith  ! I’ll  soon  learn  ve  now  how  to  behave. 


To  the  sprig  of  the  nation,  &c. 


Pat’s  cudgel  was  handy,  and  though  he  was  bandy, 
He  was  quite  the  dandy  in  love  or  a fight  ; 

He  gave  me  a topper — I gave  him  a whopper. 

It  was- such  a stopper  it  stopped  his  mouth  quite  ; 
His  courage  was  all  out,  he  murder  did  bawl  out. 
And  why  did  we  fall  out,  sweet  Barney,  my 
joyr’ 

Och  ! if  you’d  know  why,  now,  for  Judy  I’d  die 
now. 

Take  that  in  your  eye,  now,  dear  Paddy  my  boy^ 
For  I’m  of  the  nation,  &c. 


So  J ud)^  I caught  her,  but  very  soon  after, 

She  did  die  a martyr  to  whisk}^  so  strong  ; 

There  was  a grand  making  at  sweet  Judy’s  waking. 
Lights,  whisky,  and  cake,  in  galore  the  night 
long 

As  Judy  did  lie  now,  her  friends  all  did  cry  now — 
Och  ! why  did  you  die  now,  and  leave  us  to- 
nignt  1 

Till  with  liquor  o’ertaken,  we  got  to  heads  break- 

, ing, 

And  finished  the  wake  in — a row  and  a fight 
For  we’re  of  the  nation,  &c. 


64  Free  and  Easy 


Long  Barney. 

Air  “ Kate  Kearney.” 

Bid  5'ou  ever  hear  tell  of  Long  Barney  '? 

He  dwelt  near  the  groves  of  Killarney  ; ' 

One  glance  from  his  eye  caused  the  girls  all  to  sigh, 
For  they  had  a liking  for  Barney. 

I’ll  sing  to  you  now  of  hisfightin’, 

A thing  which  he  took  great  delight  in  ; 

He  could  handle  the  sthick,  all  the  boys  he  could 
lick, 

And  they  all  stood  in  fear  of  Long  Barney. 

He  went  to  the  fair — it  was  Aisther ; 

In  his  pocket  had  many  the  tasther  ; 

He  met  Biddy  Briggs,  and  wid  her  had  jigs. 

And  she  fell  deep  in  love  wid  Long  Barney. 

So  into  a tent  he  did  take  her. 

And  he  called  for  a drop  of  the  crather ; 

Wid  his  arms  round  her  waist,  her  sweet  lips  he 
did  taste, 

“ Oh !”  she  cried,  don’t  you  smother  me,  Barney  ?” 

So  up  steps  one  Barhy  O’Brien, 

And  Biddy,  he  long  had  his  eye  on ; 

“ Arrah,  Biddy,”  says  he,  come  over  till  me, 

An’  don’t  stop  there  whisperin’  till  Barney.’,’ 

Says  Barney,  I’ll  soon  make  him  toddle, 

If  I hit  him  a pelt  on  the  noddle  ; ” 

Arrah,  whack ! goes  the  stick,  on  the  floor  Barhy 
kicks ; 

“ Faith,  I’ve  dusted  his  jacket,”  says  Barney. 

So  Barney  sits  down  by  his  Biddy, 

For  the  whisky  and  fight  made  him  giddy; 


Comic  Songster. 


“ If  there’s  arah  spalpeen  ’ill  step  out  on  the  green, 
Faith,  I’ll  scuttle  his  noddle,”  says  Barney. 

Wid  a great  deal  of  coaxin’  an’  twistin’, 

Says  Biddy,  “ There’s  no  resistin’ ; 

There’s  my  father,  Tim  Briggs,  says  he’s  give  a pig 
To  the  man  that’ll  marry  me,  Barney.” 

So  now  they’re  united  together, 

And  they  slick  till  each  other  like  leather ; 

There’s  Barney  and  Briggs,  little  children  and  pigs. 
And  they  all  sleep  together  with  Barney. 


Down  the  kitchen  airy,  when  the  mutton  smil’d. 
In  its  luscious  beauty,  roast  or  b’ild. 

Crept  a knowing  Bobby,  who  possess’d  the  power 
Of  knowing  Betty’s  dinner  hour. 

In  her  cozy  kitchen,  not  a little  wild, 

On^e  she  kept  the  supper  ’till  ’twas  sp’ild, 

And  the  gravy  dried  up,  so  (the  case  was  rare) 

She  felt  somewhat  inclined  to  swear. 


Where  is  my  Bobby  7 Where  can  he  be  1 
To-night  he  was  to  come  and  sup  with  me ! 
I’ve  had  a Hirish  stew  a-ready  for  this  hour. 
For  Bobby  Lee,  the  Airy  Flower !” 

Oh ! the  case  was  rare,  he  never  stayed  so  long. 
From  his  little  fairy — thought  it  wrong 
To  keep  a lady  waiting,  and  what’s  even  worse. 
The  dish  he  loved  so  well,  of  course. 

When  the  twilight  shadows  gather’d  in  the  west. 
And  the  voice  of  hunger  wouldn’t  let  him  rest. 


The  Airy  Flower. 


Air:— ‘-The  Prairie. Flower.” 


CHORUS. 


66  Free  and  Easy 


Like  a crushing  feeling  not  a little  ril’d, 

Lest  Betty’s  temper  should  be  sp’ild. 

There  is  my  lilly,”  softly  sang  he, 

The  light’s  in- the  airy,  waiting  forme. 
Every  one  who  knows  her  feels  her  gentle 
power. 

Like  Bobby  Lee,  the  Airy  Flower.” 

Feeling  somewhat  jaded,  Betty  upward  cast, 

A look — exclaiming,  ‘‘  Here  he  comes  at  last ! 

Oh  ! he  oughter  been  here  (leavin’  me  forlorn) 
Mor’n  two  long  hours  agone  !’* 

Scarce  had  these  angels  whisper’d  in  each  ear, 
When  lo  ! “ What’s  that — a footstep  1 ’tis,  I fear !” 
Cried  Bobby,  and  he  swore  a wicked  oath  that 
night. 

Then  cunningly  put  out  the  light. 

Down  came  the  missis,  close  to  the  door. 

Bob  made  for  the  airy,  Betty  scream’d  ‘ Oh,  lor  ! 
I thought  ’twas  Barnum’s'  ghost,  mum,  a tak- 
ing off  his  tow’r. 

Like  Bobby  Lee,  the  Airy  Flower !” 


Poor  Old  Horse  Let  Him  Die. 

My  clothing  once,  alas  my  friends,  was  linsey  wool- 
sey  fine. 

My  hair  was  brush’d  off  neatly,  and  gaily  it  did 
shine ; 

But  now  I am  a growing  old,  and  nature  doth  de- 
cay, 

My  master  he  doth  frown  on  me,  and  thus  I heard 
him  say : 

CHORUS.  ’ ' 

’ You’re  good  for  nothing  now  Old  Horse  ! 

And  then  he  passed  me  by, 

I cannot  give  you  Hay  and  Oats ! 

Poor  Old  Horse  let  him  die. 


Comic  Songster.  67 


M}"  lodging  once  was  on  clean  straw,  and  in  a stable 
warm, 

To  keep  my  active  sturdy  limbs  from  taking  cold 
or  harm, 

But  now  I am  in  open  fields,  compell’d  in  truth  to 

And  bear  cold  frosty  winters,  the  rain,  the  hail  and 
snow. 


You’re  good  for,  &c. 


My  feed  was  once  the  best  of  oats,  and  likewise  well 
cur’d  hay, 

As  ever  grew  upon  the  lawn,  or  in  the  meadows 
gay; 

But  no  such  comfort  now  I find,  in  the  stable  or 
■ clean  stall, 

I am  forc’d  to  nab  the  short  grass,  that  grows 
around  the  wall. 

You’re  good  for,  &c. 

My  shoulders  were  both  fat  and  fine,  and  clean  and 
smooth  and  round. 

But  corrupted,  rotten  and  m,y  wind  it  is  unsound  ; 

And  my  founder’d  old  crack’d  hoof,  that  once  was 
smooth  and  hard. 

Is  deem’d  to  be  unworthy,  to  tread  my  master’s 
yard.  ' 

. • You’re  good  for,  &c. 

^ You  eat  my  hay  that’s  costly,  you  also  spoil  my  i 
straw. 

You’re  not  fit  to  ride,  old  horse,  and  my  cart  you 
cannot  draw;  ^ 

And  you  are  blind  and  lame  old  horse,  you’re  lazy, 
dull  and  slow. 

I’ll  drive  you  from  my  premises,  to  hunt  your  liv- 
ing go.  , 

You’re  good  for,  &c. 


68  Free  and  Easy 


My  skin,  unto  the  Huntsman  the  tale  who  can  be- 
lieve ] 

My  flesh  unto  the  hungry  hounds,  I shortly  too 
must  give, 

And  noble  form  once  nimble,  that  tra veil’d  leagues 
and  miles, 

O’er  mountains,  hedges,  ditches,  and  leap’d  o’er 
gates  and  stiles. 

You’re  good  for,  &c. 


The  Shoddy  Contractor. 

Air  ‘.—Fine  “ Old  Irish  Gentleman.”-. By  E.  T.  Johnson. 

I’ll  sing  to  you  a little  song,  made  by  a modern  pate. 

About  a shoddy  cloth-contractor,  who  ojvns  a fine 
estate : 

In  a street  called  Fifth  avenue,  where  big  bugs 
congregate. 

And  bears  a good  character  though  his  hours  are 
somewhat  late, 

This  shoddy  cloth  contractor  of  the  present  time. 

Before  this  cruel  war”  broka  out,  he  was  what’s 
termed  a “ heat,” 

And  kept  a small  hand-me-down  store  in  Chatham 
street ; 

His  neighbors  they  all  marked  him  down,  as  an 
arrant  cheat. 

But  now  he’ll  pass  his  poor  friend  by  when’er  they 
chance  to  meet. 

This  shoddy  cloth  contractor,  one  of  the  present 
time. 

Now  he  keeps  a stud  of  horses,  the  fastest  in  the 
town. 

Determined  to  outshine  his  neighbors  Smith  and 
Brown ; 


Comic  Songster 


I In  Broadway  you  may  see  him  daily  driving  up 
I and  down, 

And  often  at  Delmonico’s  sipping  champagne 'he  is 
found, 

This  shoddy  cloth  contractor,  one  of  the  present 
time. 

He  keeps  his  shoddy  factory  in  a bye  street  near 
Broadway, 

Employs  several  hundred  hands  but  gives  them 
little  pay ; 

And  if  a poor  soldier’s  wife  works  hard,  she  can 
earn  fifty  cents  a day. 

To  support  her  little  ones  at  home,  while  her  hus- 
band’s far  away. 

From  this  shoddy  cloth  contractor,  one  of  the 
present  day. 

At  the  Sanitary  fair,  his  name  is  on  the  list. 

Of  subscribers  for  one  hundred  dollars,  but  of  course 
that  won’t  be  missed  ; 

He  rents  the  finest  pew  in  church  and  always  stands 
the  grist. 

For  the  next  government  contract  puts  fifty  thou 
sand  in  the  fist. 

Of  this  shoddy  cloth  contractor,  one  of  the  pres- 
ent time. 

At  every  war  meeting,  he  is  sure  to  be  seen  there, 

On  the  speaker’s  platform,  sometimes  he  takes  the 
chair ; ■ ‘ ’ 

Tho’  he  can  no  more  make  a speech  than  Barnum’s 
grizzly  bear. 

But  he  pays  a man  to  write  one,  which  he  studies 
with  great  care. 

This  shoddy  cloth  contractor,  one  of  the  present 
time. 

You  can  tell  him  in  a thousand  by  his  lofty  mien 
and  tread. 


I. 


yo  Free  and  Easy 


This  shoddy  cloth  contractor,  who  has  his  country 
hied ; 

But  tho’  justice  may  he  sleeping,  still  she  is  not 
dead. 

And  soon  will  her  avenging  sword  fall  upon  the 
heads — 

Of  all  shoddy  contractors,  of  the  present  time. 


All  Mankind  Are  Worms. 

Air  “ Bow,  wow,  wow.” 

As  all  us  mortals  turn  to  clay, 

When  closed  our  mortal  terms,  sir, 

I think  we  maj^  with  reason  say, 

That  all  mankind  are  worms^  sir.  , i 

But  as  there’s  some  may  douht  this  truth, 

A.nd  I like  to  he  exact,  sir,  i 

Your  patience  kindly  grant  me,  while 
I’ll  try  to  prove  the  fact,  sir. 

CHORUS. 

Bow,  wow,  wow. 

The  Dandy  he’s  a tape-wovmt 
Made  up  of  stays  and  lace,  sir. 

The  Tailor  he’s  a cabbaffe-worm, 

That  cuts  your  leaves  with  grace,  sir. 

The  Lover  he’s  a glow-worm, 

That  shines  hut  to  allure,  sir. 

The  Husband  he’s  a ring-worm, 

That  old  wives  best  can  cure,  sir. 

Bow,  wow,  wow. 

The  Glutton  he’s  a meal-worm,  ? 

Still  feeding  night  and  day,  sir. 

The  Drunkard,  he’s  a 5^///-worm, 

That  drinks  his  all  away,  sir. 


Comic  Songster. 


The  Brewer  he’s  a w^/^-worm, 

A ver)'"  jolly  one,  sir, 

The  Farmer  he’s  a ^rw^-worm. 

That  grubs  on  in  the  sun,  sir. 

Bow,  wow,  wow. 

The  Scholar  he’s  a book-worm. 

That  best  on  learning  feeds,  sir. 

The  Miser  he’s  a muck-worm^ 

That  on  a dunghill  breeds,  sii*. 

The  Rogue  he’s  but  a blind-worm^ 

That  works  on  in  the  dark,  sir. 

The  Coquette  she’s  a bait-worm^ 

That  angles  for  a spairk,  sir. 

Bow,  wow,  wow. 

I 

The  Idler  he’s  a s/ot4?-worm. 

With  laziness  he’s  rife,  sir, 

The  Soldier  he’s  a hlood-wormf 
Still  feeding  upon  life,  sir. 

A Maid  she  is  a «e/Xr-worm, 

That  changes  every  day,  sir, 

And  Love  worm  in  bud'  is, 

That  eats  our  peace  away,  sir. 

Bow,  wow,  wow. 

And  thus,  I think  I’ve  prov’d  to  you. 
That  all  mankind  are  worms,  sir. 

Of  different  kinds  and  natures,  too. 

And  different  shapes  and  forms,  sir. 
And  since  that  all  our  bodies  go 
To  the  worms  at  our  tail  end,  sir. 
Let’s  hope,  like  joll}'  hutierjUes, 

That  we  may  all  ascend,  sir. 

Bow.  wow.  wow. 


72  Free  and  Easy 


The  Reason  Why  She  Left  Him. 

Answer  to  “ Why  Did  She  Leave  Him  ?” 

Why  did  she  leave  him  '? — Oh  dear  ! what  a bother, 
And  fuss  they  are  making  everywhere  ! 

The  reason  I’ll  tell  you  : why  she  had  another, 

And  to  call  her  deceitful  is  hardly  fair. 

He  would  stop  out  all  night  with  girls  of  the  fashion, 
And  would  leave  her  in  sorrow,  which,  you  know,  is 
a sin ; ' ' , 

He  would  drink  like  a fish,  had  a terrible  passion  ; 
That’s  one  of  the  reasons  why  she  has  left  him. 

They  say  : he  is  united  ; but  that  is  a blunder. 

In  a drunken  frolic,  make  no  mistake,  he  is  all  there. 
He  would  halloo  and  bawl,  and  roar  like  the  thunder. 
And  quarrel  with  all  when  he  went  to  the  fair. 

He  was  jealous,  and  vain,  and  very  conceited, 

And  if  got  married,  she'  knows  what  would  begin  : 
A pair  of  black  eyes  would  be  often  repeated. 

And  this  is  the  reason  why  she  has  left  hini. 

She  has  married  another,  and  he  keeps  a carriage. 
At  least  so  the  poets,  who  wrote  of  her  say  : 

It’s  a donkey  and  cart, — I’ve  no  wish  to  disparage. 
Her  pride’s  only  seen  when  she  goes  to  the  play  ; 
But  if  she  walks  out  in  the  evening  hours. 

And  sees  her  old  bore,  when  drinking  gin. 

She  quick  hastens  home,  thanks  her  stars  by  the 
powers; 

And  she  is  now  very  glad  she  has  left  him. 


THE  END. 


I 


r 


